


Words and Other Weapons

by Shaeydyrllah



Category: Labyrinth (1986)
Genre: Dark Jareth, F/M, Like a darkfic wrapped up in comical absurdity, Non-Consensual Kissing, Non-Consensual Touching, Non-Linear Narrative, Romance, Sarah cheats at boardgames, lying and manipulation, some comedy elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-18 12:14:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 27,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28617873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shaeydyrllah/pseuds/Shaeydyrllah
Summary: Underground, it is common knowledge that anyone wishing to marry the Goblin King must be victorious in a challenge set by the Labyrinth itself.No one expected the Labyrinth to choose its young human Champion as the challenge to be bested.As for Sarah, she’s becoming increasingly concerned by how much she enjoys defeating Jareth’s would-be-spouses with a wide range of boardgames.It should be noted that Sarah is also an unrepentant cheat.
Relationships: Jareth/Sarah Williams
Comments: 159
Kudos: 187





	1. Words are the weapons that ensnare our enemies

**Author's Note:**

> I have roughly 2/3 of this fic written so this should be updated far more consistently than my other fics.
> 
> I suppose this is the overflow of ideas that didn't quite mesh with A Goblin Queen's Guide to Time Travel, and this Jareth is actually darker than the last one.
> 
> Mentions of the Game with One Rule is adapted from a game played in a fic by distractedkat.

*

~*o0o*~

*

 _“I believe_ **_I_ ** _will choose the game this time, my own dear one.”_

*

~*o0o*~

*

The resplendent Fae's golden scales were tarnished with grime. The scent rising off of her was absolutely abominable; it was worse than week-old road kill that had been soaked in sewage water and left in the sun to bake. Despite being metres away it caused Sarah to retch loudly.

 _I've won,_ she reminded herself. _She can't touch me._

Part of her couldn't help but pity the reptile-like-woman. No one deserved to fall into the Bog of Eternal Stench. As a teenager it seemed an almost whimsical punishment, but the ensuing isolation from everyone desiring to be as far away from you as possible was in actuality quite a horrific reality.

Graciously, as graciously as she could, Sarah allowed the Fae to approach her, her torn, bloodied lip curled into a snarl as she looked past Sarah's shoulder at the Goblin King.

A brief glance behind her confirmed that the King was utterly unrepentant at this state of affairs. He looked up lazily from his throne, limbs sleep soft and vulnerable. His eyes were not; they contained the mirth of a crazed soul that had laughed in the face of certain destruction.

"Lovely Sarah,” she beseeched, "How I admire you." Sunset eyes were overcast with heavy alabaster storm clouds, "If I cannot take you with me, allow me to at least, bestow a degree of protection upon you."

 _Oh yeah, you were real keen on protecting me a few hours ago, when you came at me with a bow and arrow._ Sarah shook her head derisively.

The Fae untied the leather cord from her neck, offering her an innocuous-looking glass bottle.

Several goblin guards, leapt forth to the prisoner’s legs to impede her movement. 

Sarah hesitated to accept it, "What is the price?" _Isn’t there always._

"No price," her smile was bitter, "This water is of my homeland. We have an abundance."

She screeched as the goblin wearing the baked bean can earmuffs, sunk its twisted yellow teeth into her arm. She refused to falter in proffering the gift.

"Champion," the Goblin King warned, his voice deadly calm, "I do not think it wise-"

"Please," she begged Sarah, "One day, it may be your last line of defence."

_Defence against what?_

The Champions fingers curled around the tiny bottle and she watched the defeated competitor being dragged away. Something heavy settled in her heart as she considered the unusually cloudy liquid, with flickers of light interwoven, like an aurora borealis shrouded in sheets of spun sugar. 

_What am I supposed to do with a bottle of water? Tip it over the next person that annoys me?_

Jareth approached from behind, wrapping an arm around her waist and tucking her head under his chin. Her stomach erupted into butterflies, butterflies that had been feeding off of psychotropic nectar.

These casual touches had become frequent as of late and she wasn’t sure what to make of them.

Sarah spun around in his loose grasp and narrowed her eyes playfully at the Goblin King, “The Bog. Isn’t that a bit much?”

_He’s certainly a candidate._

His Highness’s wicked grin widened, “Nothing is too much for my Champion.”

*

~*o0o*~

*

Sarah frowned down at the cheap plastic frame; she rolled a garish pink coin between a finger and thumb as she studied the configuration in front of her. Upon the marble tabletop, gilded in golden spirals, the Labyrinthine challenge seemed wholly unimpressive. The fact that the table was far too wide for two people to sit opposite one another comfortably while engaging in said gruelling task, added ridicule to the matter at hand.

Bracing one hand on the tabletop, she reached over, practically lying across the table surface in order to deposit her coin. It landed with a soft _chink_.

“That’s four in a row,” Sarah announced, somewhat breathless from the strain of reaching so far across. She fell back into her seat and smirked at the woman opposite her.

Marietta stared at the game board incredulously. True enough, Sarah’s fluorescent pink coins made a line of four, whilst her opponent’s acid green ones were scattered around with little precision. The smooth silver scales on the surface of her skin rippled before her eyes and shifted, jutting out violently in a manner befitting a scalded cat. One clawed hand swiped the game off of the table, leaving deep gouges in the impractically beautiful furniture.

The coins rained down to the floor in a messy heap, rolling to the far corners of the conservatory.

A stray goblin that had been observing the proceedings began to collect the coins in what was a decidedly helpful gesture. Before, it stuffed them in its wide, gaping mouth and scurried underneath an armchair. The armchair predictably toppled over.

This would be the last time she broke out ‘Connect Four’ it seemed.

“This is nothing short of insulting.” Marietta snarled, “I am to be a Queen. **The Goblin Queen** ” She rose to her feet gracefully; her iridescent gown billowed with every step as she started to stalk closer to Sarah, who immediately skittered to the other end of the table with significantly less elegance and ferocity.

“Hey, I don’t make the rules.” Sarah insisted, raising a hand placatingly. Unfortunately, she was still a little gleeful from her victory so the action probably came across as a bit condescending.

“Yes, you do.” She hissed, “You chose this game.” Sarah feared for her opponents poor teeth, as she seemed determined to grind them to dust and spew the decidedly un-snow-like substance in her face.

“Well, it is my prerogative. About the _only_ thing, I do have any control over.”

 _And wasn’t that the crux of the matter._ No matter how poorly she did her job or how insulting she was towards the competitors, she was trapped, upholding a duty she’d never asked for.

Marietta’s hand brushed her thigh, long fingers running over jagged scales that gave away to a glint of bronze metal. With one forceful tug, she pulled a 5 ft spear from her flesh and the wound winked shut.

_How did that even fit..?_

“We could have a rematch? Best of three?” Sarah offered, eying the spear warily as her opponent advanced. “You could be pink this time if it means that much to you.” Levity was a paltry defence in the face of certain death.

“You demeaning, irreverent little-”

“ _Precious_.” Cajoled an amused voice, belonging to a rather dangerous smile. “Are you terrorising my lovely guest?” His voice was all honey and viciousness. The Goblin King’s keen avian eyes watched the frenzied arc of Marietta’s weapon as it left another gouge in the marble.

He placed a gloved hand upon her shoulder with a grip too tight to be considered friendly. The Princess of the River of the Forgotten startled badly. “I will not accept defeat at the hands of this _girl_.” She spat, “Being terrorised is the least of her worries.”

The King’s expression didn’t change, but his grip must have given the way Marietta winced. “I wasn’t talking to you, my dear.” The coldness of his tone was like something glacial being injected straight into Sarah’s veins, her neurons were encased with ice and for a moment she was rendered incapable of moving.

“She’s just a sore loser. Like someone else, I could mention.” Sarah snarked as she attempted to regain use of her limbs to edge further away from Marietta. She caught a flash of something heated in his pitiless mismatched gaze before he smiled once more at her.

“Ah, such a pity,” he crooned sweetly, his voice forlorn. “It would appear that I am not so fortunate to have you as my bride, Marisa.”

“It’s Marietta, not M-”

“Unless my Champion has devised a hybrid sport, where one jousts and squints at this...mortal contraption.” His eyes traced the deep grooves in his table before landing on the crumpled game and what coins remained uneaten by Zilch. “I do believe you’ve been disqualified.” With a dismissive wave of his hand, the spear Marietta had been wielding fell apart and fluttered to the ground as a pile of purple asters.

“Won’t you dine with me, Champion?” He brushed past Marietta as though she were another one of his sizeable False-Alarm statues with a penchant for cruder language.

 _It was always_ **_Champion_ ** _, not champion._

 _Not_ **_Sarah._ **

_Champion, my Champion, won’t you dine with me? Won’t you eat from my table? Consume the fruits of this land once more?_

He took unholy satisfaction from singing her title, a predatory glint in his eyes as he reminded her of her ties to his land, his Labyrinth.

“Not today, _Your Highness_.” Never before had a title of respect carried so much... _well_...disrespect.

“I’m afraid your love life has infringed upon my studies. I have a paper due tomorrow.” With a surge of vindication, she watched the Goblin King’s mouth twist with irritation as she vanished before his eyes. Her obligation fulfilled. **For now**.

*

~*o0o*~

*

Games are an integral part of Sarah’s life. She recalls lazy afternoons of lining up row after row of dominos with her father in increasingly complicated spirals. Her mother never had the patience for games, disliking playing the detective, the murderer, the banker. Too much time pretending to be things that she wasn’t on stage, Sarah suspected. There had to be part of her left that wasn’t an act, a falsity, a competition. Her father may be inclined to disagree.

She was rather pleased that the family tradition of game night had been revived; after she moved past her animosity towards Karen, they could commiserate over how appalling her father was at Pictionary. Sarah rather hoped there was no realm in which a horse had six legs, a plunger for a tail and eyes that dangled from their sockets. She’d have to ask Jareth.

And wasn’t that a novelty?

Stepping in and out of the mighty Goblin King’s Kingdom to interfere with his nuptials of all things.

 _He could at least make the effort to look upset when I inform him I’ve thwarted his most recent chance of matrimony,_ she thought bitterly.

Sarah glanced up from her book after hearing Toby’s disgruntled whine. Karen held a Gameboy aloft between two fingers like a dirty item of clothing, holding it out of reach as her much shorter brother attempted to snatch it back, to no avail.

“You’ve had your face glued to that thing for hours.”

“It hasn’t been hours!” Toby retorted, “It’s not even lunchtime yet.”

“Young boys like you should be playing out there.” She gestured to the window with a harried flap of an arm, “Not stuck inside all day, it’s unhealthy. Tell him, Robert.”

Her father, in turn, looked up from his newspaper and cast her a helpless look of bewilderment across the table. Sarah made a concerted effort to return her attention back to her book.

A low rumble outside preceded the sudden downpour of rain. If she didn’t know any better, Sarah would suspect her brother of being in cahoots with a certain Monarch with a flair for dramatics. As it stood, the only evidence she had as of yet was Toby’s recent dedication to the art of juggling. Which given the lack of eggs in the fridge and the sticky residue on that one corner of the carpet, was not going especially well.

“Ha. I can’t go outside now.” He crowed joyfully.

“Robert-”

“Sarah, go play with your brother.” Her father cut Karen off.

Sarah shot her father a dirty look as he very deliberately picked up his newspaper once more and returned to reading it in earnest. She set down her own book with a sigh.

_Listening to Stacy sing ‘Starman’ repeatedly through the paper-thin walls of our shared accommodations while I try to study would be better than this._

And that was saying a lot. Her other roommate was convinced that Sardines the cat’s disappearance couldn’t be unrelated to the new karaoke machine in the living room.

“I’m not playing Monopoly with him again,” she complained. “He always steals from the bank.”

“Do not.” Toby stuck his tongue out at her.

Karen shook her head sadly. “My son, the master criminal. One of these days we’ll be defending him in court against charges of fraud and money laundering.”

Toby screwed up his face in confusion. “Why would I clean money? It would get all soggy.”

“Perhaps, you should clean your room instead.” Karen offered, drily.

Toby turned wide, pleading eyes to their father, who tried to remain engrossed in his paper. It was difficult to do so with a small child clinging to his legs like a baby orang-utan. He made a cursory attempt to dislodge him, giving up with a groan.

“Why not teach Toby the Game with One Rule?” He spoke at last.

“Ha, ha. Very funny.” Sarah rolled her eyes. “Do you realise how quickly he’ll get bored with it?”

Toby released their father at last and wandered over to her. He shot one last baleful look at the gaming device that Karen was attempting to turn off. The jaunty tune of Mario blasted out louder than before. “Fine, we’ll play a new game. What are the rules?”

“Well...there’s only one rule...and I’m not telling you what it is.”

“What?”

*

~*o0o*~

*

The throne room was silent as the Wiseman lead the challenger forwards. The numerous fae and beings of the Underground that made up the Court of the Goblin Kingdom were stricken mute in horror, as the enormous doors fell shut with a clamorous thud, interrupting their King’s speech.

The interior was bountiful with lush flowers, twined elaborately around pillars and braided in the hair of many an aristocrat. The King was the most beautiful figure of all, dressing in quartz armour that shimmered like moonlight and a flowing cape of downy snow feathers.

He watched passively as the hooded challenger marched forwards determinedly, clutching on to the withered hand of the Wiseman as he shambled to the centre of the room. He stumbled over his lengthy moustache, inciting a round of snickering from the goblins, lurking beneath their Lord’s throne.

“Your Majesty.” The Wiseman croaked, bending so low that his knees gave out and had to be helped back to his feet by the challenger. “This young woman has a complaint.”

“Oh?” The Goblin King’s voice was soft as he stared down at her; a hint of mirth entered his eyes. “If you’ve come for a lost sibling, you’re welcome to look.” He waved his jewel topped cane in a brisk swish as he gestured to the burbling mob below. “I’m sure they’re around here somewhere.”

“An announcement,” corrected the Wiseman’s Hat. “The Senorita wishes to make an announcement.”

“Yes, yes-an announcement. “ The Wiseman repeated, raising an ineffectual hand to swipe at his hat in disapproval. “She wishes to announce her desire for a murder.” His Hat started to squawk again in protest, so the owner took the executively wise decision of stuffing a pair of old woollen socks into its mouth.

The Goblin King raised a perfectly arched eyebrow as he descended the stairs to the central podium. Hushed whispers spread like wildfire as his guests shuffled backwards, to the very walls of the room as though expecting an eruption of vastly catastrophic proportions.

“How refreshing,” the Goblin King remarked, coming to a stop in front of the challenger. “Most do not grant me the courtesy of forewarning.”

The challenger threw her hood down, briefly meeting the eyes of the intrigued Monarch. “That isn’t why I’ve come. I am here to announce my desire for a **marriage**.”

If the possible declaration of assassination had triggered a wildfire, then her announcement of marriage had unleashed an inferno of hellish proportions.

The Wiseman’s Hat managed to expectorate the balled-up socks, they slapped wetly against the Goblin King’s armour. “They are the same thing, no?” It burst into abrasive sounding snickers.

“Quite.” The King’s smile was sharp, holding no trace of warmth in it. “If you are certain. You know what must be done.” Even still, she could tell that she had surprised him. It wasn’t every day that the twelfth daughter of a lowborn hunter sought a King’s hand in marriage, let alone _this_ King, after everything that had happened to the Goblin Kingdom.

He was barely even looking at her, frosty eyes passing over her as though she were a fleeting curiosity. The Goblin King rapped his cane against the beak of the Wiseman’s Hat. “Another century or two as headwear for you Quentin, my fine fellow.”

The challenger swallowed loudly and ignored the Hat’s dismayed screech. She refused to back down. This was the only chance she had. The heavy crimson velvet of her robe no longer felt comforting, she felt like she could suffocate and all of the painfully exquisite faces leering at her from the shadows would do nothing but chortle over her misfortune.

“Hara, no!” Shouted a young boy with grass-green hair and pointed ears. “It isn’t worth it.” The crowd parted in astonishment as they watched the grubby child shove his way forward to stand by the challenger.

“This is what I must do.” She tried to correct him firmly, doubts gnawing away at her insides.

“You could die!” He insisted, “They all die in the Labyrinth.” His eyes glistened wetly as he glared up at the Goblin King. “It won’t bring Amity back.”

The King seemed rather charmed by the child’s defiance. “Now now, my dear lad. I have faith in my _bride_ -to-be.” The child’s frown deepened as he saw the Monarch’s lip curl at the word ‘bride.’

The boy grasped hold of the challenger’s hand, gripping it tightly. She nodded to him silently, accepting his unwavering offer of aid. He didn’t have to like her choices; he just had to help her live with them.

The challenger inhaled deeply, closing her eyes for a moment to centre herself. With as much will as she could muster she met the Goblin King’s eyes again.

**It was awful.**

She felt like he was peeling back her flesh inch by inch and delving into the darkest recesses of her mind; examining her every hope, her every failure.

She shut her eyes again. Anything was better than watching herself drown in his gaze.

“I, Aislhara of the Lockerbie Oak, do announce my intent, my desire and deepest _wi-ish_.” Her voice broke slightly, the hair on the back of her arms prickling at speaking such a word, here of all places. “To become the Goblin Queen. I am willing to demonstrate my dedication by fulfilling a worthy challenge set forth by the Labyrinth, Guardian of this blessed land, to earn the hand in marriage of King _Ja-reth.”_ Her voice died away on the last syllable.

A wave of heat swept throughout the throne room and an excruciatingly grating static sound built up in the ears of every inhabitant.

The King circled the podium with a thoughtful expression, as faded etchings upon the walls lit up in a brilliant aura of gold. It flooded from the spiralling sigils in the arches above into solid lines like veins. They coalesced into a singular spot in the centre of the podium, slightly to the left of Aislhara herself.

The challenger edged backwards slowly, unsure what to make of the Labyrinth’s response. All of the attendants of the Court watched with bated breath as the Labyrinth’s chosen challenge started to emerge from the searing heat and blinding light.

The light was forcefully expelled, sending rings of golden smoke, drifting and twirling in the air.

When the smoke cleared, a figure became visible.

A young mortal woman, clad in flannel pyjamas with long dripping wet hair stared past the challenger to the enraptured King. Never before had such a lack of composure been witnessed upon his Highness’ face as he gazed at the woman with quiet wonder and a tenderness that surely had to be an illusion.

The woman stared back at him in horror, vibrant green eyes burning with hatred. “What have you done?”

The Goblin King threw back his head and laughed an unrestrained and terrible laugh. Tears streamed down the sharp planes of his angular face as ice melted away into something else entirely. The woman cast nervous glances around at the audience as they all hesitantly picked up on his cue and laughed in a far more stilted manner.

“Oh, Aislhara.” The King sang, he stepped forwards swiftly, his hungry gaze continued to drink in the mortal as though she would vanish at any moment. “May I introduce the Labyrinth’s Challenge; the most challenging little thing to set foot in this Labyrinth.” His voice was beatifically joyous, “It is no other than my own precious **Champion**.” His words were drawn into a hiss as he declared her title to his Court, daring her to refute it.

Sarah blinked as her surroundings warped in and out of focus around, she felt too hot, weighed down by an invisible chain, cords that ran the length of her body as though anchoring her here.

_Toby!_

It was the first desperate thought that sprung to mind...after the shellshock and dawning fear engulfing her.

“You can’t have my brother.” Sarah declared quickly.

“You have no power over me.” She added for good measure. It was with some satisfaction that she saw the Goblin King flinch.

She was apprehensive of the fire simmering in his eyes, even more so of the sardonic grin stretched across his face. “Ah Champion, fear not. Your brother doesn’t concern us, unless he intends to try for my hand in marriage as well.” He quirked an eyebrow at her mockingly.

_Marriage?_

_He had clearly lost it. Probably snorted too much glitter and given himself brain damage._

“Who would want to marry you?” She snorted derisively.

His grin only widened as he inclined his head to the side of her. It was for the first time that she noticed the woman in the red cloak with a death grip on the child by her side.

“That would be me,” Aislhara confirmed, somewhat wrong-footed. She’d expected flaming anvils, spike pits of death and grotesque minotaurs, not... _this_. “If you are the challenge set forth by the Labyrinth, I am prepared to best you at any task you see fit to devise.”

Sarah stared at her helplessly, taken aback by the vehement glare the young boy shot at her past his friend.

“No, no way.” She held a hand up in front of her as though she could push all of this away from her sight and her mind. Not five minutes ago had she left her shower and had been considering whether or not she wanted to order Chinese takeout.

Sarah glared at Jareth resolutely. She didn’t know how such frigid eyes could give an impression of smouldering heat. “I’m not getting involved in all of this.” She spread her arm out to gesture to the murmuring crowds and flickering traces of golden light at her feet.

She didn’t even have the capacity to feel humiliated, so potent was her anger as she stood before the pompous sneers of ethereal figures she could only half remember from _that_ dream. Sarah furiously swiped her wet hair out of her eyes and glowered at the cloaked woman.

“Alright then, you have my consent or blessing. Whatever.” She announced, “Go marry him if that’s what you want.” Her day couldn’t possibly get any worse.

“I’m afraid that’s not how it works.” The Goblin King chided, having the audacity to chuckle at her bedraggled state and ignorance. “My Kingdom has a little...ditty, you might call it. Perhaps it will provide some clarification.”

Sarah could only watch open-mouthed as he gestured for his hordes of goblins to be unleashed from the dark recesses of the room. Some of the guests squealed with fright as they lurched out of their destructive path, swiping bonnets and cravats as they left a trail of chicken feathers in their wake.

“ **One by one they run to me, their heads are filled with fantasies**.” Jareth drew his cane upwards; as he sang into the crystal, his voice magically amplified. All the while he watched her, hooded eyes devouring her reactions, searching for any weakness he could strike out against.

“ **Queens and Kings, their desires true**.” A large burly goblin belched the line.

“ **Of hopes and dreams they wish to rule**.” Squawked the Wiseman’s Hat.

“ **One by one, my suitors fall** ,” the Goblin King shook his head in dismay, “ **Death within these Labyrinth walls**.” 

_How they shone. Embedded between each brick, each step and aged archway there were tiny glittering fragments._ They burned her eyes as she stared at them.

“ **Friends and family sob and wail, as in the end, none prevail**.” The next line was chanted by a pair of dazzling female Fae; they fluttered their eyelashes at the King and swooned in a sickeningly dramatic way when he winked at them.

“ **Left alone my heart is stone** ,” His voice became mellow, the words burying into her head inexorably. Even if she covered her ears she knew somehow she would still hear them. Jareth stepped towards her, carelessly discarding his cane with a loud clink as crystal smacked against the flagstones. **“As I wait for one to call my own.”** Sarah didn’t understand the emotion lurking behind his eyes, she didn’t think she wanted to. The chill working its way down her spine wasn’t just from her dripping wet hair. “ **One by one they run** _ **from**_ **me.”** He repeated the refrain, sadly. “ **For none shall share my throne, you see**.”

His voice was haunting.

She’d never forgotten how he had called to her from the Escher Room, a twisting geometric nightmare and a desperate pursuit to find her brother. It had been difficult to ignore his pleas, his demands... _his lies._

If she had been unsure before, she now knew with little doubt that many had ventured into the Labyrinth before her, and many others had died for the King, cavorting and crooning to his half afraid, half adoring audience.

“Yeah, that was about as clear as the Bog is fragrant.” Sarah rebuffed him bluntly.

The Goblin King **pouted** at her, honest to goodness, pouted. As though he were a small child she had reprimanded. He looked more put out that she’d disregarded his song than he had been upset by her ridicule over his nuptials.

Aislhara drew a sword from beneath her cloak. “I have come this day, to marry the Goblin King. I shall fight you to the death if I must, Champion.”

 _To the death. Her day_ **_could_ ** _get worse._

She needed a moment to think. Time to plan. Jareth’s entertained expression and the frenzied chants of the crowd for her blood clued her into the fact she wouldn’t be receiving help any time soon.

“I am the Champion,” Sarah spoke carefully. She tried to ignore the strange ring to her words, as they amplified and carried across the room, holding a low thrum of power.

“That you are.” The Goblin King agreed; his eyes were bright with avarice as he noted her shift in demeanour.

“And, as such, I may choose the challenge?”

“That is your right,” confirmed, Aislhara. “Never before has the challenge taken the form of another person, and a human at that.” Her voice was coloured with distaste. “Nonetheless, my blade shall be ready.”

“Well then, have you ever heard of scrabble?” Sarah offered, hesitantly.

Aislhara’s enraged expression promised a painfully drawn-out death.

*

~*o0o*~

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know what, few people incorporate the fact that Jareth canonically sings into their fics.  
> I cannot sing,  
> or write songs  
> just vaguely menacing lines that rhyme. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	2. Deadly as a knife it tears and buries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On today's agenda: eye-spy and no twister.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoop whoop, an update.  
> Our lovely Heroine is forced to bravely battle Jareth's potential-future-spouses.

*

~*o0o*~

*

“You think that I want to play cupid?” Sarah had snarled at him. Her heart was hammering hard inside of her chest. She glared at him, awash with fury and embarrassment. “You make me sick.”

How could she have been so stupid to hope she had been rid of him?

Jareth stalked towards her, eyes narrowed with contempt. “Sick are you, sweet thing?” He pressed the cool leather of his gloved hand to her forehead, making a soft chiding sound of pity. “You sicken me too.” He bent his head down to murmur lowly in her ear; his unnaturally hot breath scorched her as she tried to squirm free of his grip on her shoulder.

“How you blight my lands with your insipid **heroism**.” He whispered harshly, long strands of silver blond hair tickled her face. “How you twist and turn my world **callously,** to your liking.” His laughter was cruel as he pulled back to watch her face flush with fury. “Do you think I enjoy having every half-wit in the Underground, vying to share my throne? Because they think an ineffectual little girl can’t possibly stand in their way. All of this after they slighted me,” he finished quietly.

“Long live the **Champion**.” The Goblin King mocked. He rolled a crystal over the tops of his fingertips, allowing it to drop. It burst like a water balloon as it hit the table below, leaving a black and white checkered board. “Have you any idea, how **long** I have waited for them?” He hissed, “And yet, I predict it will only be a matter of days before you are crushed. Truly I don’t know why the Labyrinth chose you!” His mouth was twisted into a venomous sneer.

“I don’t think I’d ever truly hated anyone before I met you.” Sarah’s voice was oddly resigned. 

“What a dull life you must have led before I entered it.” Jareth’s eyes pierced her, his expression unusually blank as though he couldn’t fathom why she found anything he had said so distressing.

*

~*o0o*~

*

“I spy with my little eye,” Sarah’s eyes flickered around the musty study. The walls were lined with row after row of books, their spines engraved with strangely intricate swirls and loops that didn’t resemble any language she was familiar with. She was hardly an authority figure on the matter of language. A handful of mandatory French classes from five years ago and the odd German curse word she’d picked up from Karen’s maternal Grandparents, wasn’t a lot to go off of. “Something beginning with....” Her gaze brushed past Lady Aline of the Tempest Trees, who was watching her with rapt attention and settled upon the smirking King, lounging languidly in his seat, perpendicular to the two of them occupying his bureau. “The letter B.” She finished decisively.

_Burdensome...belligerent...bastard..._

Sarah reached across the Goblin King’s desk and tore a sheet of paper out of one of his expensive leather-bound journals. Jareth merely raised an unconcerned eyebrow at her actions, watching her scribble the word in question down in her chicken-scratch handwriting.

“How many guesses do I get?” Aline swept her lavender curls away from her face, she followed Sarah’s gaze intently. The fleeting fiancée frowned as she considered the Goblin Monarch; a startling lack of words beginning with ‘B’ came to mind.

Sarah shrugged, the sooner she got this over with and found the Goblin King a worthy spouse, the sooner she could be free of his schemes. “As many as you want.”

The Goblin King in question released a small disapproving hum. “Do you intend to take your duties seriously, Champion?”

“Fine.” She rolled her eyes, “Three guesses, that’s the general modus operandi of magical bullshittery.” Sarah scowled at the Goblin King as he twisted a single crystal in the palm of his hand, rolling it back and forth lazily. “Although, I suppose, just going off the first thing you say, with no consideration of intent is the done thing around here.”

“Yes, that does sound more appropriate,” Jareth interjected. “As far as magical, Labyrinth ordained challenges go. It is fitting. One guess it is, sweet Aline.”

His guest’s face coloured noticeably as she flushed under his soft words. Jareth’s gentle smile transformed into something jagged and wicked as he switched his gaze to Sarah. “Anyone would think you didn’t feel honoured to be my Champion.”

Sarah sighed loudly and slumped down in her chair. It was a tacky thing, all red velvet and grandeur with no comfort. The Goblin King managed to remain regal and aloof as he sprawled in his chair untidily; she looked like she had the posture of an octogenarian.

“Champion,” Sarah muttered bitterly, “It sounds so grand and magical. But all I really am is your glorified chaperone.” She mangled the piece of paper in her hands. “The title has a lot of dramatic connotations for a role that could be better filled by your mother,” she snapped.

Jareth’s grin was feral; an inhuman light in his ice shard eyes sent an odd thrill of fear down her spine. “I don’t have a mother.”

“What? Like, you’ve never?” She was completely thrown by the wording of his answer. _Surely not..._

“Books,” Aline announced. Her voice held an impatient edge as she sought to regain the attention of the Goblin King. Both he and Sarah blinked at the bride-to-be, or more accurately the bride-not-to-be.

“Well?” Jareth drawled, “Am I to be married, _Champion_?”

She suppressed a shiver at the sound of her title from his tongue; he crooned it as though it were the sweetest term of endearment he could conceive of. She hoped he choked on it.

 _I could pretend,_ she mused; _there are certainly many books here that I have spied with both of my eyes. That should count for something._

Sarah didn’t know what to make of the nervous expectation in Aline’s eyes or of Jareth. The King of the Goblin’s no longer looked relaxed. His body was made up of hard lines and coiled tension as a hairline fracture spread across the surface of the crystal he had been toying with. There was a familiar flash of red within the swirling depths of the orb.

“No,” she relented. It might have been her imagination, but she swore that Jareth’s shoulders lowered a fraction, out of relief? Disappointment?

 _At the end of the day she had too much pride to just_ **_let_ ** _somebody beat her._

“No?” Aline repeated, “I’ve lost?” The soft-featured Nymph became incredibly tense, her face drawn and white. “My father...I can’t go back...I can’t tell him...” She trailed off tearfully. _Which was far more than Jareth deserved of any suitor._ Sarah couldn’t picture how hard it must be to have familial expectations placed on her to win a King’s hand in marriage.

“Uh, my condolences?” Sarah offered. She wasn’t quite sure what the protocol was for a failed attempt at claiming a crown and the irritating baggage of a King that came with it. She smoothed out the piece of paper in her hands and started to fold it with intent.

Aline sobbed harder into her puffed sleeves.

_I wouldn’t be caught dead weeping over Jareth._

Of course, Jareth watched the scene unfold with a gloating expression that could be visible from the Aboveground. “ _There, there_.” He offered in a bored voice, yet his gaze did not flicker down to his miserable ex-fiancée. He was watching Sarah with a curiously warm look in his eyes.

 _I didn’t do it for you._ She stared back at Jareth, defiantly, _I don’t want to spend another minute down here with you, but I have standards._

_I refuse to lose at eye-spy of all games._

“I do wonder, lovely Champion, of all the things in my study, what has caught your eye?”

Jareth plucked the paper aeroplane from the air as she sent it sailing towards him. He swiftly unfolded it, pausing for a long moment as he read the four-letter word. He let out an amused huff of laughter, turning delighted...no...proud eyes to her.

“For you, dearest Alina.” The Goblin King pressed the paper into his former suitor’s damp fist. She sniffed loudly before reading the content, too confused to try correcting her name.

“Bird?” Her wet eyes met Sarah’s, accusingly. “There is no bird in here.”

Technically it said bird ~~brain~~ , but she’d elected to cross off the ‘brain’ part as she didn’t yet have substantial evidence that Jareth possessed one.

A cruel sneer crossed Jareth face as he regarded Aline with what could only be classed paradoxically as hostile indifference. “Oh, is that so?” And so the Goblin King began to shift before their eyes, body contorting and compressing horrifyingly, as dark armour melted away into benign white and gold feathers.

The owl shot across the room and landed upon Sarah’s outstretched arm. She didn’t remember raising it, but there he was nonetheless, talons digging deep into her flesh beneath a flimsy cotton t-shirt.

Avian eyes bored into Aline’s; he cocked his head and watched Sarah with the same unsettling intensity.

If girls were made of sugar and spice, and all things nice; Jareth was certainly born of wickedness and woe, and destined to be her foe; questionable lack of a mother notwithstanding.

Afterwards, neither of them talked about the soothing way she had dragged her fingers over his feathers, nor the way he had tilted into her touch.

*

~*o0o*~

*

“...really? But why just the left?” Sarah furrowed her brow as Letty gesticulated wildly with his clawed hands. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, somewhat alarmed by how routine her inexorable disappearances to the Underground had become.

One of her roommates had moved out again after they actually saw her vanish midair, or more accurately vanish mid-cooking breakfast at six in the morning. In her shock, said roommate hadn’t had the sense to turn off the cooker, which had caused some issues when their whole building was evacuated and she had been notably absent.

Unfortunately, Imogene couldn’t blame the tequila this time. Or the time after when denizens of the Goblin Kingdom visited and affectionately replaced hers and her roommate’s socks with feathers and what they both dearly hoped was mud.

_This is fine._

“Why are you sat on my throne, _precious thing_?” The Goblin King hissed the last two words at her like an insult. Which said something about her that she hadn’t considered his normal penchant for pet names as demeaning as this.

Sarah’s heart thudded loudly when she saw the Monarch’s darkened expression. Perhaps her retaliation through the appropriation of his property had been taken a bit too far. Besides, it wasn’t even a comfortable throne, all round-shaped and covered in a material that made her slide out of the seat every few seconds.

Letty squeaked loudly in alarm before fleeing, decided to forgo continuing their heated debate on the merit of whether one should steal one or both socks from a pair.

_Coward._

She could hardly blame him. She rather felt like utilising her ability to vanish now there was no challenger tying her there.

“You have an appalling lack of furniture in here,” she chided softly in an attempt to make light of the situation. “Would you have me sit on the floor?” Grimy smears remained on the flagstones from whatever poultry related fiasco had taken place earlier.

The fury in his narrowed eyes diminished, abruptly. He regarded her quietly for a long moment with his head tilted in a reminiscently avian manner.

“I suppose not,” he conceded, a trace of mirth glinted from a sharp flash of jagged teeth. “I had not realised you felt so comfortable in my home, to the extent you would extend your stay past your... _duties.”_ His eyes followed Sarah as she awkwardly slid off his throne and edged forward, not one to be cowed by anyone. “Nonetheless, it will be my pleasure to accommodate your **needs.** ” His eyes flashed darkly, “However can I make you more comfortable?”

Sarah forced herself to look away from the magnetic draw of his gaze; it was akin to being dragged backwards through a black hole unwillingly. Not that anyone willingly seeks out black holes with the intent of being consumed, aside from the odd deranged scientist.

Was she the deranged one for wanting to spend more time down here, while the Royal Menace lurked about in the shadows?

“I dunno,” Sarah mumbled, “Maybe put another chair in here. You do have guests from time to time, as we both well know.”

There was a flash of something, hotly triumphant in his eyes as he smirked at her response. “I shall take it under consideration.” He gestured for her to sit once more, which she did so gingerly, unsure if his mercurial moods would drive him to berate her again for taking his seat. “How was your most recent challenge, my dearest Champion?”

Sarah blinked in surprise as he seated himself on the curved edge of his throne, crossing his legs casually as he leaned into her. She tried to ignore the twinge of warmth that burned inside of her as he murmured her title; he was close enough that she could feel his body heat.

“Oh, um...Derrin?”

“Derrin.” He spoke the name as though it were unfamiliar, as if she hadn’t caught the Goblin King with his tongue jammed down the Siren’s throat.

“I asked him to see which of the two of us could name the most American states within five minutes.”

“Not the typical game you choose to play.” The Goblin King mused, “And the odds were heavily stacked in your favour. I dare say it was not... **fair,** ” he breathed the last word directly into her ear.

Sarah shuddered and tried to move further to the other end of the throne. Jareth only smiled as she retreated, making no attempt to reach after her.

_Bastard._

“I wonder what your basis for comparison is.” Sarah mocked, adopting a pretentious faux-British accent. _Could Fae be British?_ Maybe there were different regional accents Underground.

Jareth didn’t seem offended in the slightest, peering down at her loftily from his higher position on the arm. “Why humanity of course; we are but a pale, shadowy reflection cast by Aboveground’s indomitable sun."

Object and image.

That had rather intriguing implications. _To what extent was a realm of dreams contingent on there being dreamers?_

“It is cruel acts like those that make me wonder whether I shall ever be permitted a spouse.” Jareth lamented, overdramatically.

“Just as I wonder whether I will ever be permitted to finish my shift at work without your future wife or husband interrupting me.” Sarah shook her head sadly, although her words lacked any real bite to them. “I was running out of new ideas for games to play.” She confided. Sarah pulled a folded up piece of printer paper from her jacket pocket. There was a list of numerous items, paired with images, some of which had crosses next to them. “There are only so many times you can play Cluedo before it becomes boring.”

Jareth craned his neck to read through her list. At last, he tapped one of the items with his finger, eyes gleaming with intrigue. “What game is that?”

Sarah rolled her eyes at him. “That’s Twister. And no, I’ve ruled that one out. I don’t have the greatest balance.”

“It looks delightful.” He argued, grinning as he noted the small smile creeping across her face against her will. “I wouldn’t be opposed to making it the official challenge for my hand in marriage.”

“I wouldn’t be playing it against you.” Sarah scoffed; hoping if she inclined her head the right way, the long waves of her hair would obscure the blush painting her face. “The prize for winning is being able to marry **you.** I didn’t think that even you were narcissistic enough to want to marry _yourself_.”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t help you practice your... _balance_ ,” he offered, generously.

*

~*o0o*~

*

Strangely enough, Jareth had been correct when he called her out on the challenge she had chosen. Next time she endeavoured to be fairer.

That’s why she picked a task along the same vein as the prior one. Who could name the most goblins within five minutes?

It seemed the **fairest** task she could devise. After all, Jareth’s future King or Queen should have knowledge of their citizens. Especially since the simplest of two-syllable names often eluded their Ruler’s memory.

_Poor Hoggle._

Except, she was quite sure he knew that particular name by now; the dwarf caused him enough grief.

Sarah couldn’t have predicted how terrified she would feel when it came to counting those lists of names. _How could she?_ From the moment she had been dragged back to the Underground to deal with the Goblin King’s suitors she had felt little more than harassed and irritated.

But some good had come out of it. She could visit her friends more often.

Sarah hummed along to the ballad Sir Didymus was composing whilst Ludo bellowed something inarticulate but vaguely reminiscent of the tune to _Gently Johnny_. In retrospect, she felt quite embarrassed by how freaked out she was earlier.

Hoggle hobbled towards them carrying four cups on a wooden tray. She winced slightly as she accepted it, bemoaning the fact that both the cup and handle were made of a metal alloy. Whilst she could appreciate her friend’s love of all that shined and glistened, its conductive properties made it a poor choice for a cup.

Sarah covered her fingers up with the edges of her sleeve and stared into the flames of the campfire. Perhaps it was a little silly to camp outside when Hoggle’s cottage was a few metres behind them, but she didn’t fancy her chances hiking into the Labyrinth and taking a nap.

Sir Didymus had warned her that the Sphinx often roamed around at night practising karaoke. 

Maybe she should introduce Stacy to them.

Hearing _Never Gonna Give You Up_ being yelled at you from afar whilst being pursued through a hedge maze was quite the experience.

“This is the twelfth time this week.” Hoggle commented, “The Rat’s been pretty popular, I guess.”

Sarah hummed noncommittally, switching her attention to the skies above. It was quite a spectacle to behold, stars winking in and out of existence in increasingly elaborate configurations and patterns.

She swore for a moment there was a constellation that looked like John Lennon.

“His Highness is the most sought after bachelor of the Underground. It is so wonderful to have guests again.” Didymus stated, “Perhaps I should compose an ode in the King’s honour.”

“Busy.” Ludo agreed with a nod of his shaggy head. When he seated himself on the bench adjacent to them she could hear the wood crack and strain under the weight.

Seeing her friends wasn’t the only advantage. There were many spectacular sights in the Goblin Kingdom, like the statue of a famous chicken, woven from black spider silk. And arguing with Jareth was **almost** entertaining, especially since she held such exquisite power over him, that he should marry or remain forever alone at her will.

Sarah still wasn’t sure what Jareth’s thoughts were on his impending nuptials. He often used the word _impending_ , perhaps it evoked a greater sense of drama to the whole affair. _Impending nuptials...impending doom..._

He clearly enjoyed the attention and the ridiculous fawning from his suitors. He led them one by one through his castle grounds, disappearing for hours at a time. When he brought them before her they were starry-eyed and determined to beat her.

The sour churning in her stomach told her she very much didn’t want to know what Jareth got up to with his ever-changing fiancés and fiancées.

And yet, he never seemed displeased when she won.

Sarah rather suspected he enjoyed seeing the exasperation on her face, every time she appeared in his throne room, golden lights preceding her appearance as each challenger bravely invoked the Labyrinth’s wrath for the right to rule it.

There had been that one occasion where she had been called Underground thrice in one evening; not even the Goblin King’s ability to reorder time could smooth over her disjointed interactions with her date. Thomas was understandably confused that his date’s clothing kept changing and the large cut on her forehead was difficult to explain away.

Sometimes Uno could get a bit heated.

Part of her had become accustomed to this insanity. It was that part of her that had almost had a heart attack when she realised she had beaten Romi by only _one_ name.

It was difficult to discern whether or not her opponent had been disappointed by the outcome, her whole body was a living flame that lacked any recognisable facial features. Sarah reckoned she had dimmed a bit upon her defeat, but that might have just been wishful thinking.

She had gripped those sheets of paper so tightly they had almost torn.

“Uh, Sarah?” Hoggle asked hesitantly, he alternated between gazing into his hot chocolate and casting her worried looks.

“Mmh...” She mumbled in response, taking a sip of her drink so soon had been a mistake. It would be days before she felt her tongue again.

“Why are you so insistent on defeating the challengers; if you lost a game you could get shut of **him** forever.”

“I say!” Didymus sprung to his feet, sloshing his drink into the grass below him. “Lady Sarah has far too much dignity to throw away her duties as Champion, she must ensure our King’s mate is worthy and fit to rule. She lives by her vows, as do I.” He finished grandly, brandishing his sword wildly until he lost it somewhere in the fire pit.

“I don’t recall making any vows.” She corrected wryly. “But I guess you’re right. It’s a matter of pride; he did tell me that I’d be defeated within the first week.” Sarah watched as the constellations shifted, shooting through the sky, _make a wish,_ they urged slyly. “The Goblin King stole my brother and he drugged me; don’t forget those death machines he sent after us!”

“Cleaners,” Hoggle grumbled in agreement, suspiciously eager to skip over the whole drugging incident.

“His Kingdom decided to make me Champion, the least I can to is inconvenience him wherever I can.” Sarah rationalised, “I can ruin his engagements whilst demonstrating he will never have power over me by crushing his challengers. That’s two birds with one stone.”

Hoggle shook his head, incredulously, “You’ve passed by killing **two** birds with one stone, and you’re now brandishing a rock, smacking anything resembling a sentient being.”

For better or worse this was her life now. If she failed and allowed Jareth to marry, she’d have no reason to be summoned.

No reason to taunt and bicker with him.

Putting it into those terms made it seem like a very unhealthy friendship. Did he even see them as friends? 

_Did she?_

*

~*o0o*~

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bosom-companions...friends??? (mocking voice)
> 
> Guess who has a fun fun essay based exam tomorrow, tis me *weeps*


	3. Who is the trickster and who is the tricked?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We see more of the Game with One Rule and there is a drunk Sarah interlude ;-)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been staring at the same 4 paragraphs for the past 3 dayssss. I know exactly what I want to write about, there is a detailed bullet point plan, it's just summoning the motivation to write the filler bit before the drama kicks off.

*

~*o0o*~

*

“I don’t get it,” Hoggle complained. “Why are you moving the pieces like that?”

“It’s part of the rules,” Sarah shrugged.

“You said there was only one rule.”

“It’s a very _all-encompassing_ rule.”

“I’d cross this game off the list if I were you.” Hoggle shook his head, giving the lines in the dirt another dubious glance. “It’s not really worth playing with the challengers if they won’t be able to understand it. It’d be like teaching the Fierys to play Twister without disconnecting their limbs.”

“You’re probably right,” she agreed. Secretly, she found it quite amusing that he was having so much difficulty with a game that any human could see through in a matter of minutes.

*

~*o0o*~

*

“ **There’s a st-aaa-r man, waiting in the sky...** ” Sarah belted out.

The Champion blinked in surprise as her surroundings shifted, gone was the dingy living room and the microphone held together with two pieces of scotch tape.

_Oh, dear..._

She should have taken notice of the lurching sensation in the pit of her stomach earlier, but after all those glasses of wine she’d had, she had wrongfully mistaken it for nausea.

Well...It looked like Stacy might be moving out too, with this most recent disappearance.

A young man stood on the central platform, just staring at her in astonishment. Given his defensive stance and the decadent clothing he was wearing, she could assume he was the newest challenger.

She goggled at the pair of horns sticking out from his curly mop of carrot coloured hair. _They were so shiny._ She liked shiny things.

Sarah stepped towards him, trying to walk steadily and with as much dignity as she could muster. After all, she was the Champion.

“Hi,” she beamed. “Are you here to play a game with me?” _Game, game, so many games to play, which game to choose?_

“Oh, um,” he responded inarticulately, taken aback as she bounded towards him. “I heard it was a bit different nowadays. How do we go about this?”

The throne room was so bright; dreadful light poured in through the mosaic-like glass panels of the ceiling, set in stone. It was cold too. Why was she so cold?

“Are you cold?”

He took half a step back, eying her warily, “No, not particularly.” He cast a sceptical look at her clothing. She followed his gaze, noting that she was indeed wearing a flimsy nightdress. “Is this part of the test?”

“Ah yes, the test!” She winced as she noticed how loudly she had been speaking. “What do you fancy? We could do Charades, haven’t done that in ages.” Sarah continued to speak rapidly, “Or Wink Murder, it’s been a while. Then again, your lot would take it literally.”

“What was that murder one?”

Sarah jolted in surprise as she found an arm linked with her own. _Not my arm...nice arm though...all strong and leather-clad..._

She refused to acknowledge the alarmed squeak she emitted as she found herself pulled back and twisted around against the solid column of a blisteringly hot torso.

“Don’t mind us, Cedric. I just need a word with my Champion.” The Goblin King purred in a low voice. “Come now Champion,” he urged, tugging her forwards with him. Unfortunately, she still had her face buried into the smooth silky layers of his shirt and made little attempt to move with him.

“You’re really warm, you know.” Sarah commented, “Like really, really, unnaturally warm.” She frowned as she noticed him stiffen when she pressed herself closer. Cautiously, a hand rested upon the back of her head.

It felt quite nice actually, to have fingers running through her hair. _What was she supposed to be doing again?_

“Oh right, challenges!” She blurted out, trying to twist back around again, out of the King’s grasp. “Cedric, was it?”

Jareth’s latest fiancé shifted uncomfortably, eying the Goblin King with a dismayed expression. “It’s Simeon actually.”

The room spun around for a moment and she almost lost her balance. She reached out for the closest thing to steady herself.

Sarah beamed at the Goblin King and gratefully squeezed his hand; he gave her an unsettled look before hesitantly returning the gesture. _Maybe he doesn’t know how to smile properly. Maybe he’s only used to sneering and baring his teeth like he’s going to eat someone._

_How sad, I should try to teach him to smile normally._

“What game should we play Jareth?”

She heard the sharp intake of breath from Cedric-or-Simeon.

Jareth’s expression fractured, the thinly veiled amusement gave way to something deeper bleeding through the cracks, something raw and desperate and not unlike a wounded animal.

“I-I need to speak with you.” The Goblin King forced out, through gritted teeth.

She blinked at him owlishly, and instantly started to giggle at the thought. “I like owls.”

He shot her a bewildered look, “As pleased as I am by that revelation, I really do need you to come with me.”

_He looks so pretty when he’s confused, all wide-eyed and soft._

“Champion?” He questioned.

A dark scowl took over her face, “That’s not my name. I don’t like it when you call me that.”

He returned her glare with equal fervour. “It is hardly **my** choice.”

“Sa-rah, not Champ-i-on.”

“Say that again for me, precious thing.” His expression was positively lethal, he made a dismissive gesture with his hand and she briefly noticed the suitor fleeing for his life in her periphery.

“Sa-rah, _Sa-rah_ , **Sa-rah** ,” She repeated it dramatically in different pitches.

His eyes bored into her as he scrutinised her mouth; Sarah shifted uncomfortably under his attention. Why was it was so hard for him to just use her name? Wasn’t she important enough for him to remember it?

She was still holding his hand.

Sarah made a valiant attempt to squirm free but he was quite unwilling to release her. So she started to swing her arm back and forth, not unlike how Toby did when she held his hand to cross the road.

“Precious thing, you cannot engage my suitor whilst inebriated.” The Goblin King reasoned, in a low voice, one pleading that an iota of reason would blossom inside of her head.

“Why not?” She demanded petulantly. “I could beat anyone while in-eb-in-eb-re-ee-ate-ed.” _How many syllables were there in inebriated? She should add an extra few just to cover her bases._

“Let me take it away.” It was more of a demand than a plea but the pained twist of his features conveyed the urgency of his request in much the same fashion.

“You can’t un-drink wine, silly.” Sarah laughed, “You took me away from my party, that wasn’t very nice.”

“I will throw you as many parties as you desire, but I must ask that you allow me to return your sobriety.” The Goblin King hissed.

“Fine, fine...buzz kill, _literally_ a buzz kill.” The fearsome Champion grumbled.

He tugged her forwards, finally releasing her hand. Sarah rested her head against his chest once more. _He did smell so good, like something sweet but somehow mixed with the crisp scent of freshly fallen snow._ She hoped she hadn’t said that part out loud, but given the way, his chest vibrated with laughter she feared she wasn’t that lucky.

Swiftly he placed the pads of his fingers against her temples. _When had he removed his gloves?_

_His skin was so hot, burning her. No human was that hot._

_Not human._

_Not anything she had ever encountered before._

In juxtaposition to the searing temperature of his skin, something cool and tranquil slide into her head, flooding her with serenity. She was oddly passive as _something_ poked around in her mind, restoring her functions like she were a rusty computer, several updates behind.

It was so nice to bury her face against his chest, with her head cradled in his hands. There had never been a calm moment between them before, where they had simply coexisted in a peaceful state.

In a way, it was oddly jarring.

The swirling mass of _something,_ squirming its way into every inch of her mind was incomprehensible in size. What was it doing?

It was too much effort to think.

Her head was so full; it was easy to just become **lost**.

_It is okay to be lost._

If she stayed like that a little longer than strictly necessary, it was just because she was trying to be thoroughly certain she was sober enough for the challenge ahead. Besides, Jareth was hardly complaining.

*

~*o0o*~

*

Sarah had been set alight with a new determination to ensure her enemies fell. She did a quick mental double-take as the thought registered. _Enemies,_ that was rather drastic. She didn’t have enemies, just annoyances that needed to be crushed as efficiently as possible. She could no longer rely on luck declaring her the victor.

She needed something that would **ensure** her victory.

_I think that’s called cheating..._ a small rational part of her mind chipped in. She abruptly told it to fuck off.

_Is it really cheating to challenge someone to a game they were exceedingly unlikely to win?_

_No, of course not._ If her traipse through it was any indication, the Labyrinth seemed to operate upon this principle.

It wasn’t even a difficult game.

But she’d run pilot studies with her friends and several other Underground residents and they just couldn’t seem to grasp what the game was about.

Prince Nazir of the Silver Desert hadn’t done a great deal to endear himself to Sarah. He had swept into the room with an entourage of fifty-two men and women in stunning mirror-like armour and immediately complained he didn’t like the shade of blue that had been chosen for the flowers adorning the throne room. Unlike the majority of the times where she had to be summoned, she had already been present for his arrival, having just returned from a game of Scrabble with Sir Didymus.

All she could say was it was a good job that Didymus had had no intention of marrying the King.

Jareth had been surprised when she had announced the newest challenge would take place outside. Urgent business involving a hedge fire called him away from observing the proceedings. _That was okay;_ she thought she would prefer to play the game without those predator owl eyes observing her every move.

Nazir had been thoroughly dismayed when the Champion had seated herself on the grass and begun to draw lines in the dirt with a knobbly stick. She looked at the crisscrossed lines thoughtfully and placed two twigs within the grid at perpendicular angles.

“What challenge is this?” Nazir asked with a grimace as he followed suit, conjuring a jewel-encrusted cushion to ensure his beloved armour remained unsmeared with dirt. His attitudes seemed rather impractical, what was the point of wearing armour if you feared it becoming dirty?

“This is the Game with One Rule,” she announced with a wide sweeping gesture and a subtle hint of melodrama.

Okay, it wasn’t _that_ subtle.

She motioned for Pipet and Mimi to stop cartwheeling and repeating her words. The two goblins relented with a whine and craned their furry helmet-clad heads over the game board she created. They clunked together with a deafening bang.

“We couldn’t play something proper, like Chess?”

_“But you’ve never played Chess, dearest. Why is that?”_

_“Perhaps I was tired of protecting Kings from well-deserved attacks.”_

_“Everyone knows it is the Queen that is the most useful piece on the board. Some would say the game is really about her. She has all of the power.”_

It would be just her luck that the one mortal game that the challengers were familiar with, was Chess.

It wasn’t exactly a great secret that Sarah couldn’t play Chess. She was familiar with the pieces and their movements but had no understanding of strategy. Hedging her bets against immortals that had been playing the game before she was even born would have been a decidedly unwise move.

“Do you even want to be married to him?” It was a question that had been playing on her mind for a while; not in regards to Nazir specifically, but to all of them.

“Married to who?” Nazir frowned.

“The Goblin King of course.” Sarah rolled her eyes.

“Of course I want the Kingdom.” He gave her a perturbed look. “It is an infinite well to drink from. I wouldn’t risk everything if I didn’t want it.”

_That wasn’t what I asked,_ she thought frustratedly.

Sarah withdrew a smooth grey river stone from her pocket; it had faint white lines running through it like a spider’s web. “This’ll be my playing piece. You can choose whatever you want, as long as it roughly the same size.”

Nazir sneered at her and twisted his fingers to produce the head of a periwinkle flower. “Will this suffice, Champion?”

“I’m sure it will.” Sarah nodded. “Okay, like I said, this is the Game with One Rule. I’m going to use my piece to make movements across the board. The key thing about this game is there is one rule that governs my actions, but I can’t tell you what it is.”

“That hardly seems equitable,” he glowered at her, tossing his long dark curls back out of his arrogant face.

“You can make a movement on the board with your piece as well. It might be right, it might be wrong. I’m not going to tell you.” Sarah continued, ignoring her opponent’s protests. “To win, all you have to do is uncover the rule and use it.”

Nazir shot her a dubious look, shifting uncomfortably atop his cushion as he stared back down at the lines drawn in the mud. “That’s it? It sounds simple enough.”

“Oh, it is.” Sarah agreed cheerfully. “Ready?”

*

~*o0o*~

*

Much to her consternation, Jareth hadn’t acquired any new furniture. He had made the concession of allowing her to sit on the arm of his throne but the dirty look she shot him had made him refrain from repeating the offer.

“My, my, another challenger. We are popular.” Jareth drawled; he shared an amused look with her as a young woman with glistening golden scales and irises that shifted between different sunset hues, stepped forward.

The woman arched an eyebrow at the King, before lowering her head almost unwillingly into a gesture of respect. As she looked up once more, she locked eyes with Sarah and grinned at her brightly, her whole body thrumming with nervous anticipation.

It was quite a welcome change actually, considering most of the challengers tended to sport a look of grim determination.

It was a good job that Sarah had overruled physical combat as a challenge, as she was sure that she could snap her like a twig, given how strong her arms looked from beneath the complicated leather folds and braids of her outfit.

“I, Nessa of the Lethe, do beseech you most humbly, your Highness.” Her eyes darted to Sarah’s again, almost bashfully. “I wish for your permission to marry a member of your court. That is to say, it is my deepest desire to marry your Champion.”

If she hadn’t have been standing so close to Jareth, she wouldn’t have noticed the clench of his jaw or the tension in his otherwise relaxed stance on his throne.

It took her a moment to realise just what the Fae had asked.

“I’m sorry; did you say you want to marry me?” Sarah blurted out incredulously.

She nodded her head earnestly, “Oh yes, you would make an exceptionally powerful and ruthless mate.”

“But I-I don’t even know you?” She wasn’t entirely opposed to the heated way Nessa was staring at he; she was rather beautiful after all. Her dating life had dried up considerably, given that her dual citizenship meant she neglected most non-essential areas of her life Aboveground. That didn’t mean she was willing to jump straight into marriage with the first attractive person she came across. “Are you sure you’re not here for the Goblin King instead?”

_Her_ suitor giggled lightly, “What would I want with a ruined Kingdom?”

She didn’t see the expression of utter loathing upon Jareth’s face. “Sometimes, I come to watch you destroy the challengers.” Nessa admitted, “You defeated my sister, Marietta, two years ago. The hierarchy changed shortly after, in my favour,” she winked.

“Why are you asking his permission?” She jerked a thumb behind her dismissively, “Instead of mine.”

Nessa shot her a puzzled look. “You are of his Kingdom. This is the way of things.”

“I am not _of_ **his** Kingdom!” Sarah protested.

“And do you wish to marry her Champion?” The Goblin King’s smile twisted into something terrible.

_Wish._ That dreaded word.

It seemed impossible that she had found it amusing to be in control of whether or not Jareth married. If he felt one modicum of the sheer terror that surged through her blood at the prospect of being married off against her will, then she truly had been exceedingly cruel towards him.

“No,” she mumbled quietly, feeling rather humbled.

“No?” He repeated playfully, “Well, that’s that I suppose. I’m afraid I have to decline.”

Sarah sucked in a shaky breath, unaware of how badly her legs had been trembling before she fell back against the side of his throne for stability.

_He could have lorded that power over me. He could have used it against me as much as he liked._

But Nessa was not to be deterred, in fact, she looked delighted. “Oh, that’s okay. I didn’t expect you to accept my proposal without proof of my might.”

“Ah, that’s okay, I really don’t nee-”

“I invoke the Right of Fallon.”

Jareth barked a short laugh of surprise. “Do you now? How unexpected. I suppose I have no choice but to accept your challenge.”

_Spoke too soon._

“What exactly is the Right of Fallon?” She feared the answer.

The Goblin King’s gave her a look of patronising sympathy. “There was once a mortal woman named Rina; she spurned the advances of a young Prince who wished only to give her his heart.” Something cold flickered past his face, “The Fates gave him thirteen hours of starless night to pursue and capture the mortal in a Hunt.” His grin widened at her appalled expression, “That’s Common Law, to you dearest. I’m afraid the precedent stands.”

She didn’t want to think about what other outrageous laws were in place down here.

“So a person, high up in society, decides to do something morally despicable,” Sarah spat, “And a law is created to justify it?”

“Is your society any different?” The Goblin King rose a mocking eyebrow, “When you have power, the world will bend and warp to suit your desires.”

She swallowed loudly, certain that fear was excruciatingly evident in her eyes. She was a horrible, horrible person to think this kind of conduct was okay until it implicated her beyond her control.

“She’s going to chase me, for thirteen hours?” How long had it been since she had run? Actually properly run for any length of time? “And I’ll be forced to marry her,” her voice wavered on the end, utterly disturbed by the fascinated gleam in Nessa’s eyes as she drank in her dismay.

Sometimes she ended up winded just by running for the bus.

“No, not necessarily.” Jareth soothed, he leaned over his throne to cup her face in one hand, examining her expression intently. As captivating as it was to be caught in his gaze, **it also hurt.** It didn’t seem to matter though, not when she was searching him for any ounce of compassion he may or may not possess. “You are under my...protection,” he finished with an oddly wistful tinge to his words. “I _may_ intercede on your behalf.”

“Intercede?” Nessa squawked, her irises turned overcast as all of the colours bled away.

“J-Jareth,” she stumbled over his name, feeling it burn across her tongue. His eyelids fluttered shut for a moment, as though savouring the sound of it. “Please, promise me, you won’t let her catch me.”

_Jareth...Jareth._ Her mouth had felt clumsy as it wrapped itself around the sound of his name. How often had she refrained from using it? Why had she refrained from using it?

His fingers tightened around her jaw, as he searched for something in her face. She barely dared to breathe, heart pounding hard enough to shatter her ribcage.

“I promise.” Jareth intoned lowly, a strangely fevered light entered his eyes. “Upon myself, upon this Labyrinth. I shall allow no other to catch you.”

*

~*o0o*~

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sarah...Sarah...you're making bad decisions girl


	4. The mistakes you make are not easily fixed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sarah finds a curious room and histories are spoken of.  
> The nature of a song is far more than just a song.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *boops you with an update*

*

~*o0o*~

*

Toby scowled down at the checkered table cloth they’d been using as a makeshift board. His sister picked up a ketchup bottle and moved it two spaces diagonally and one backwards, jumping over the coiled liquorice allsort.

The young boy squeezed the mustard bottle in his hand tightly, studying the ‘board’. He made a tentative step forwards with his piece, still trying to fathom what he could possibly do next.

Sarah tutted loudly, “Are you sure you want to make that move?”

Toby threw his hands up in the air in exasperation. “This game’s dumb. Nothing you do makes any sense to me.”

Sarah grinned as she caught a glint of understanding in her brother’s eyes.

“Oh. I think I get it now.”

*

~*o0o*~

*

“How did you get in here, _my pretty thing_?” Jareth spat at her.

Sarah’s thunderously echoing footsteps against the uneven stone flooring came to a stop.

The Goblin King looked livid. He turned enraged eyes to her, his mouth twisted into a bestial snarl of fury. Despite, looking like he was a hair’s breadth away from attacking her, he took a step backwards, rather than towards her.

For half a second she considered running full pelt back down the corridor. There was no doubt in her mind that Jareth would chase after her. He’d probably catch her too.

“I was just looking around,” she swallowed, “And a door appeared.” She glanced around nervously, wondering whether the corridor stretched as far as the walls just beyond the gate to the Labyrinth. Row after row of dust streaked curtains hung at uneven intervals across the faded wallpaper.

“Did it?” The Goblin King replied, in a softer tone, somehow giving an even more dangerous impression. Without turning around he pulled the cord behind him, obscuring whatever he had been looking at on the wall before she had intruded.

“It’s alright.” Jareth’s voice grew softer still, as he rearranged his expression into something resembling a smile. He still looked like he wanted to bite her, to tear great bloodied chunks of flesh from her throat. “You shouldn’t be in here,” he chided, “But I suppose that has never stopped you, has it my darling.”

Sarah sucked in a sharp breath. He’d never called her that before.

“You came to find me?” He questioned, he moved nearer to her, stopping in unbearably close proximity.

“I wouldn’t use those words,” she managed to force out.

“You were barely using any words.” His smile was a hateful mocking thing, wrapped up in just enough tenderness to make her bleed on the inside. “The Labyrinth loves you,” Jareth conceded, almost sorrowful at the admission. “I fear sometimes it acts upon raw instinct.”

“It can think?”

It wasn’t an entirely surprising revelation. If a maze could change its shape and respond violently to any claims of its simplicity, it probably had a modicum of sentience.

What was more surprising was that it had a capacity for emotions. She couldn’t think of anything she’d done down here that could have endeared the Labyrinth to her, unless it enjoyed being smashed to bits by her and her friends.

“Parts of it,” he smirked.

_Those helping hands were definitely sentient._

“What is this place?” It had a similar eeriness to it that the junkyard had held, as she picked her way through her treasured possessions to find something that really mattered. It didn’t make sense that such a barren place could give the impression of being so cluttered.

_There were countless things in front of her but she was stumbling around in a blind daze._

The dimly lit corridor had no visible end, and Jareth had been stood there for a long time, staring at the thing behind the curtain before he realised she had been approaching.

“What do you think it is?” He countered, his eyes held a trace of amusement; it seemed safer somehow that he was cast in this familiar patronising role of omniscient bastard than the one before.

“The door had the word ‘ **Historia** ’ above it. But it just looks like another long hallway.” Sarah scrutinised the wall behind Jareth. “What’s behind the curtains?” _What are you hiding from me?_

The Goblin King gave her a long contemplative look. Decisively, he walked over to the set of curtains **next** to the ones he’d been stood in front of and yanked the cord sharply; his long cloak swished out with a flourish, fragments of stars uncoiled from the swathe of cloth and sputtered out.

Sarah crept closer, feeling awash with surprise that the Goblin King had been protective of a painting of all things. Beneath it, there was a small wooden plaque embossed with a single word: **Hope.**

The background was painted a deep burgundy; an enormous flaming bonfire took centre stage as row after row of stunning people, adorned in armour in a myriad of colours and shapes, trudged up a melancholy mountain in varied states of exhaustion, to hurl books into the blazing fire.

She was close enough to touch the painting, but refrained from doing so; her hand hovered in the air above it as she traced the air over a familiar set of words belonging to the spines of book after book.

“The Labyrinth,” she murmured.

“Yes.” Jareth hissed. She dare not turn around to look at his face, but something about him set her hair on end. It awoke a primitive part of her brain that announced she was in the presence of something far stronger and more ruthless than she was.

“Tell me Champion, how do you kill a Kingdom of dreams?” His voice took on a contemplative tone, “A Kingdom of ever-changing potential and limitless form?”

 _What would it take?_ She wondered, in a way it was horrifying that so many different people, presumably of different Kingdoms and races had banded together in the singular act of destroying a story about the Labyrinth.

 _Just how dangerous is Jareth?_ It wasn’t the first time she had pondered this.

 _He isn’t dangerous to me,_ she insisted, _is he?_

He had never... **hurt** her. Not mentioning the snake, the drugging, the Cleaners and the Bog. Although, none of those things had actually **harmed** her per se, frightened and traumatised, yes.

_Which is a form of harm, come to think of it._

“You stole my brother.” It wasn’t an accusation, just a statement of fact.

“You offered him freely.” The Goblin King responded flatly, his breath, hot on the back of her neck. “I only did what is in my nature. But you haven’t answered my question, precious. How do you kill a Kingdom built upon dreams?”

“You stop dreaming of it. You forget about it.” Her own tone carried little remorse.

The King chuckled darkly; she spun around to watch an unpleasant smile stretch across his face like a knife gash.

“And so they did. They watched my Kingdom fade away into something _less_ than a memory.” Sarah startled as he wrapped a gloved hand around her arm, “I had no idea that a relic of my realm persisted Above.”

It was almost as if he would lose himself in reminiscing without grasping her tightly as an anchor. Part of her wanted to comfort him, part of her wanted to shove him off. _How do you comfort a King older than can be conceived of, a King who persisted off of something so intangible?_

“My book,” Sarah acknowledged. Cautiously, she lay her hand on top of the one gripping her arm. She couldn’t begin to understand what it was to _be_ **whatever** Jareth was.

 **_Hope_ ** _...hope of being remembered...hope of survival..._

Such an innocuous item had diverted her path so drastically. Who would she be without the fairytale that accompanied her childhood, or the adventure that carved her into something stronger and sharper than she was before?

“You were the first to dream of me, in...I don’t care to recall how long.” Jareth’s eyes burned into her, ice that wasn’t melting but somehow branding her from the inside out. “The forests and deserts, oceans and stars swiftly followed suit, not to mention those **nasty little river dwellers** ,” he growled. “ _Oh_ but, when they remembered, their hearts were set on **conquest** of another kind.” His sardonic snarl dropped away and his grip softened as she gently stroked the top of his gloved hand. What paltry comfort could she offer?

In a way, it was sickening to her core. Not one in thousands had called the Goblin King to take their errant sibling away. What did that make her?

What did it make all of the challengers?

“They all declare their intent for the throne, but that’s only **half** of it,” he continued with a wry twist of his mouth, “The Labyrinth isn’t easily won over. It takes something _spectacular_.” Jareth breathed, amused by the catch in her throat. He released her arm, sliding his fingers gently downwards until he laced them with her own.

“I’ll do my best to protect you,” Sarah promised fervently. Something in the air seemed to stir at her words and Jareth’s pupils dilated noticeably as he tugged her closer to him.

“ **Champion, my Champion**.” Jareth sang, softly, “ **That was never a question. With wit or with force, you’ll protect us of course.”**

That was all rather presumptuous.

And yet, Jareth had shielded her without question from the pursuit of Nessa. Did she not owe him the same?

 _Seriously though, who thought that hunting someone down with a bow and arrow was romantic?_ Maybe the Bog wasn’t too much of a punishment.

“Why do you do that...the whole singing thing?” She gestured with her unoccupied hand. It felt unnatural to just burst into song without provocation.

_I mean, life would definitely be more interesting Aboveground if people did it more often._

There was a glint of something angry in his eyes; it was quickly quashed before it could spark into something greater. “Words, written or spoken can be erased.” Jareth replied carefully, “Song is another magic entirely, a rhythm, a melody, an intent carried beyond mere words. It transcends time and it shall remain long after the world falls down.”

_As the world falls down..._

Where had she heard that before?

_Falling...falling...falling in-_

She screwed her face up in concentration but her limited memories provided no elucidation.

No, all she could unravel was a poignant melancholy she didn’t wish to dwell on.

Jareth watched her intently for a long moment before releasing her hand with a sigh. Sarah felt strangely bereft and cast off-balance, like her concept of gravity had been irrevocably shifted. She had to force herself not to reach out to grab him once more.

“What was the painting you were looking at before I disturbed you?” _What about it made you so enraged to think I had caught a glimpse?_

Humour flashed across his face, “I think you could live without seeing it. This Hall of Records is home to many a curious reflection of History.”

 _We may be working with a Dorian Gray situation._ Her nose crinkled as she pictured the maggot-infested visage of the eternally, achingly beautiful Goblin King.

“Am I in here?” She asked hesitantly. Was it conceited to wonder if she had a tiny spot in a hallway that stretched beyond as far as the eye could see?

“Oh yes, you’ve left your mark upon our walls,” Jareth agreed, “An indelible one at that.” His musing was brought to a sharp halt as he gave her a considering look. “Will you dine with me tonight, Champion?”

It had been over a year since he had last asked this of her.

“Sure.” She smirked at the hopeful glint in his eyes. It was savagely destroyed as he watched her pull out a granola bar from her pocket. “I’ll provide my own catering, thanks.”

*

~*o0o*~

*

“What have you been up to?” The Goblin King regarded her curiously.

“You know what I’ve been up to,” Sarah rolls her eyes, “Defeating every pretty knight and brave maiden that wishes to fight for your hand.” She felt exhausted.

Sarah hadn’t thought it possible to play eight repetitions of the same game in one day alone. By now she’d built up a bit of a reputation and the other Fae were curious about the new challenge she posed to them.

He smirked at her, “They want more than my _hand_.” Jareth began to spin a new crystal, amused by her fascination with his actions. She’d never seen someone move with such grace and fluidity, as though the orb were an extension of him. “I was wondering what you have been up to Above.”

Sarah gave an exasperated huff, seating herself opposite his desk. Her eyes landed on the strange, unfamiliar language on the book spines.

She caught a ribbon of gold, flashing through the orb for a moment as it caught the light.

Before her eyes, Jareth crushed the crystal. Gently, he blew the dust towards her, frowning at her instinctive flinch.

She’d expected it to be gritty and end up stuck in her eyes like sand on a particularly windy day at the beach. Instead, it settled across her skin, leaving a slight tingle as it made contact. Sarah’s eyes flew open as a sudden surge of energy shot through her.

It was unlike the boost given by binge drinking cup after cup of coffee. It was something far superior to feel both rejuvenated and relaxed, without the irritating jitter of her limbs from the caffeine high.

“What was that?” She thought to keep the amazement out of her voice, less the Goblin King thought it perfectly acceptable to affect her with whatever magical substances he had on hand.

She still had an aversion to peaches.

“Just a refreshment,” his grin was far too self-satisfied to come across as compassionate, “You won’t let me feed you, and you refuse to rest between challenges.”

“Refreshment?” Sarah sunk her elbows into his desk and leaned over threateningly, “If this is some kind of magical cocaine-”

“It won’t hurt you,” Jareth reassured her, “It’s just ambient energy from my Kingdom. As you are so bravely defending it from unworthy suitors, you’re entitled to reap some benefits.”

 _It didn’t sound terrible when he put it that way._ She had been working non-stop to fend off his would-be-spouses. Privately, she thought even if she was beaten by one of them, she would continue to have a difficult time, thinking of any one of them as worthy.

Her nails dug into the polished wood as she maintained her suspicious gaze. “You can’t just do that to people without asking them.”

Jareth nodded dismissively. “I shall ask next time.”

_Next time?_

“I’m serious, Goblin King.” His face twisted into something sharp and lethal as she called him by his title. “Even if you think I’d like or benefit from something, you have to **ask**.”

“And so I shall,” he agreed, an edge of steel in his voice, “asking is simple enough.”

Sarah fell back into her seat, shaking her head at his audacity. “Why do you want to know about my life, Above? The last time I complained about my day, you threatened to come up there and ‘make things more interesting’.”

The Goblin King sniffed, with a haughty jerk of his head, “I simply ask to know of your business, when it concerns me.”

“My life doesn’t concern you.” A note of warning entered her voice. _He takes up enough of my life as it is._

_“Are you really sure you want to live alone, Sarah?” Karen’s voice was savagely reproachful, “Just because your roommates have gone their own ways, it doesn’t mean you need to live by yourself.”_

_“I’m not lonely!” She’d insisted, “I visit my friends all the time.”_

_“Why do we never see them?” Her father had asked, “You never even talk about them. We don’t know anything about you anymore, it’s like you’re a stranger.”_

She violently shook the memory from her mind, dwelling on how the lines between her life Above and Below bled into one another like the steady erosion of the sea against a cliff would only depress her.

 _The sea doesn’t merge with the headland...it chips away piece by piece until the cliff falls into its depths,_ part of her corrected. That part of her had apparently been listening to too many of Jareth’s morbid ditties .

She should really teach his Court something more entertaining to sing, like the Time Warp.

“You’ve been telling stories.” Jareth’s eyes gleamed with an atrociously unholy joy.

Sarah tried to feign an air of nonchalance; pride ballooned inside of her at seeing how evident Jareth’s delight was. “Now and then,” she confirmed, “The young children that visit the library I work at like to hear tales about goblins.”

“Along with virtuous Champions and their wicked Kings?” He interjected cheerfully.

“Perhaps, I just like an audience,” Sarah rationalised. “All those eager faces, watching me with rapt attention.”

“As do I. Maybe you could consider singing to them.”

“Not on your life.”

*

~*o0o*~

*

The twenty-second time that Sarah played the Game with One Rule, Jareth was there to watch.

He sat beside her in the dirt.

It had been raining the day before so the mud eagerly painted his boots and seeped into his breeches. He barely gave his clothes a second glance, keeping his eyes, affixed to the board she had etched into the mud.

Opposite her sat Zella. The Fae was not of noble blood, nor dressed in fine apparel with servants waiting on her hand and foot.

She was a scholar.

In her hands, she held a notebook, tightly. Full of annotations and hastily scribbled notes.

“How very mortal,” Zella commented, “To play a game with mud and stone. But I shan’t underestimate you; I’ve heard of what you’re capable of.”

 _Labyrinth stone, Labyrinth mud..._ the words struck a chord inside of Sarah’s palpitating heart.

“Are you ready?” Sarah asked, trying to keep the hint of apprehension out of her voice. No one had ever turned up to her challenges this prepared.

Zella nodded her head in short jerky motions. She brought a hand up to toy with a short curl of blond hair as she studied the board.

“I have gathered testimonies from witnesses to your challenges.” The challenger spoke quietly; she placed an acorn down into a square framed with wavy lines. “Your attacks are varied but calculated,” she continued.

“Didn’t you ask the past opponents?” _Surely they would be a more knowledgeable source of information._ Sarah slid her stone to the side, hopping over the vertical twig and placing her piece next to Zella’s acorn.

Zella looked up at her for a moment, eyes frigid and harsh. “They were unavailable for comment.”

 _Maybe some of them truly were lovesick over the Goblin King_ , she thought bitterly. _Probably weeping in their ivory towers over losing him._ Yesterday he had swept into the throne room with a Queen on his arm, one with a tumble of auburn hair and eyes like quicksilver.

She had kissed him, aggressively, passionately, claiming to like his ‘new look’ before darting away to approach Sarah for the challenge. Jareth had been unruffled by her ardour, going as far as to press a soft kiss to the back of Queen Sirinelle’s hand before departing.

His eyes hadn’t left Sarah’s throughout the exchange.

Part of her wanted to slap him.

Part of her wanted to slap some sense into herself.

She settled for sending Sirinelle into floods of tears as the Queen lost.

_Didn’t he care that she was-_

_That she was_ **_what_ ** _?_

Zella made a series of moves one after the other, encircling Sarah’s piece with her own. She’d never specified that her opponent couldn’t make multiple moves at a time.

The challenger paused for a moment, consulting her notebook with a frown and continued to jump her piece over Sarah’s diagonally.

She could feel Jareth’s eyes on her as she moved her own piece, scrutinising every action and weighing her up. _Did he find her lacking?_ Sarah jumped her piece over Zella’s and slid it towards the end of the board.

The next time Zella moved, Sarah hummed thoughtfully. “Are you sure you want to move your piece there?” Allowing a hint of concern to enter her voice.

Zella’s pale cheeks flushed with embarrassment, “Oh, no. Of course not.”

“I’ll let you move it back if you like,” she offered.

Zella nodded grimly in thanks and proceeded to form complicated spiralling movements with her piece, all the while desperately trying to discern what the Champion thought of her actions.

“I-I know what the rule is,” Zella spoke, determinedly.

“I see,” Sarah replied softly. She knew it was only a matter of time before someone figured it out. _Hell,_ Toby had figured it out within five minutes.

Sarah looked up from the board at Jareth. But he wasn’t looking at her this time.

_Typical._

Oh, but she was glad that the Goblin King wasn’t looking at her like **that**. Hate was not a strong enough word to describe the venomous loathing upon his face that he directed at Zella. It was lucky that Zella was so fixated upon the board.

Sarah could only wonder what it was about Zella in particular, that made Jareth detest the idea of having her as his Queen.

Certainly, he despised the pursuit for his throne, but he had never demonstrated such an abhorrence towards any one challenger. A challenger that hours ago he had kissed as soundly as any other challenger, and had whispered adoring words into her ear.

Jareth’s hand snaked through the grass and found her own, interlocking his fingers between hers. She found that she didn’t mind it. It was only right that they be here together to see it through to the end.

His hand felt right in her own, ~~like it belonged.~~

It made something spiteful twist inside of Sarah to think of The Goblin King relying on Zella for protection, for comfort. For anything that was hers to give.

“The rule is that the correct pattern to play out on the board is one of concentric circles, five drawn clockwise, seven counterclockwise. The piece must then touch all four of the borders and cross the path of the other player exactly thirteen times.” Zella concluded with a proud smirk.

Sarah was utterly dumbfounded.

“You couldn’t be further from the truth.”

A harsh rattling exhalation was released from beside her as the Goblin King squeezed her hand gently. At least he had learnt that much of sentiment in their time acquainted.

“Champion...” Jareth breathed, the word torn from him against his will. “I...”

“No, that can’t be right!” Zella shouted, furiously flipping through her book. “I have the equation here.” She thrust the notebook in Sarah’s face; she gazed at the numbers and unfamiliar symbols with a complete lack of comprehension.

The relief was making her giddy; Sarah excitedly squeezed Jareth’s hand back and tossed the book to the challenger. “I win.”

The true victory was the vindication she felt when she drank in the _relief_ pouring off of Jareth; his face had even softened into something vaguely resembling warmth and affection.

“What a shame,” Jareth murmured, the softness melted away into something thorny and constricting as he turned accusatory eyes to poor, inconsolable Zella. “Will, I ever find a spouse, capable of besting my Champion?”

“ _Nope,_ Sarah grinned at him, popping the ‘p’ sound playfully. “Because _I_ am the best.”

If he was attempting to liquefy her insides with the way he was staring at her, he was doing a sterling job; it was almost as though he couldn’t quite believe that she existed.

“Yes,” Jareth whispered, his voice pained with sincerity as his exaltations poured forth, “I do believe you are.”

*

~*o0o*~

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: nothing significant happens whatsoever, and nobody says something they definitely shouldn't have...
> 
> *waves at bowie_queen*


	5. What was the cost of our infernal jealousy?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sarah turns down one challenge and starts another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter and the following two will likely have a slightly different format, with less skipping around through challenges since we're nearing...something.
> 
> One of Jareth's abilities is inspired by Kiersten White's novel 'Paranormalcy' I read it when I was a teenager, something about the mental image stuck with me I guess.
> 
> Reading your comments about how you've looked back on some of Jareth's actions from earlier chapters fills me with glee.

*

~*o0o*~

*

“Haven’t you been paying attention?” Jareth shook his head sadly.

“I have done nothing but pay attention to you!” Sarah snapped, “Every falsity that rolls off of your tongue, every jeer behind your sadistic smile. If you’d paid any attention to me, you might have noticed that I always play to win.”

“As flattered as I am to be held within your gaze,” the Goblin King leant forward, his breath ghosting over her ear, “you’ve been paying attention to the wrong things.”

*

~*o0o*~

*

Sarah hummed softly under her breath as she wove the flowers together. 

That was a blatant lie. 

She cursed and glared at the pretty monstrosities that refused to bind together into an aesthetically pleasing manner.

It didn’t help that they were all different sizes. The purple asters and yellow hyacinths refused to interlock with the tiny forget-me-nots and the star-shaped petals of the white lilies. 

Karen could probably tell her what they meant; she had a little scrapbook with flower pressings and neatly written descriptions in elegant script. Whenever she asked the goblin in the grass beside her about her choices she would just giggle and continue making her own flower crown. Sarah felt almost offended that three stubby fingers on each hand, tipped with talons, could accomplish what she could not.

Amity was already on her second crown, the top of her navy blue feathered head was adorned with rich burgundy-toned dahlias. Sarah gave Amity a dark look as she watched the new crown take shape, woven of delicate white chrysanthemums, aster, and geranium with little sprigs of rosemary.

If this had been one of Sarah’s infamous competitions not even Jareth’s biased opinions could possibly judge her flower crown as the better option.

Sarah groaned, lying back in the grass, she watched the way flickers of light filtered through the smooth extended leaves of the peach tree towering over her.

Talons tapped against her shoulder to regain her attention.

“Lady Champion,” the goblin squeaked, “For you.” She offered Sarah her completed flower crown.

“Oh, I couldn’t,” she protested, _she could._ “You worked really hard on it.” She sat up stiffly, brushing off the dirt and stray insects crawling up her arms.

“Amity has one already, yes?” She swiped at one of the burnt red petals, “Champion look razzle-dazzle with present.”

_Well, I’m not wearing mine. It’s a disgrace._

She accepted the flowers, twisting it into a more comfortable position where the geraniums didn’t droop over her eyes.

Amity gave the crown she had _attempted_ to make, a critical once over, tutting loudly. “Tis falling apart, won’t do.”

“Have at it,” Sarah offered; it looked like a cat had swallowed a vase of flowers and regurgitated it. That was putting it generously.

With a few deft movements, Amity managed what had taken her the best part of an hour to attempt. Sarah glowered at the new crown that the goblin had planted in her lap.

“Hello, Champion.” A low voice murmured in her ear.

Sarah jumped violently and flailed an arm out to hit the offending person hiding behind her. Unluckily for her, her hand wind-milled through thin air and smacked into the tree.

The Goblin King reappeared in front of her, brushing away some imaginary imperfection of dirt from his gleaming onyx armour. His mahogany cloak was long enough to trail in the grass below them but remained startlingly pristine.

Jareth shook his head at Sarah as she sprung to her feet to march over, keeping her throbbing hand clenched into a tight fist by her side, while her other hand clutched the flower crown. His eyes landed on the angry red cut and the amused mockery in his eyes dimmed slightly.

“Whatever am I to do with you?” He sighed.

“You could try walking into the garden instead of lurking in the shadows like a menace.”

“I do not lurk, and menacing is a past time reserved for only every second Thursday,” Jareth refuted, indignantly, “I bide my time. Observe,” he purred, “You are quite lovely to observe.”

Sarah flushed, smoothing a hand down her pale mint blouse and dark skirt to ensure her clothing was still presentable after lying in the grass. It was dangerous to wear anything white in the Goblin Kingdom; any manner of substance was equally likely to be hurled at her by the goblins as a ‘gift.’

She already knew that he liked to observe. A flash of feathers past her window ledge, were as common a sight to her household as Toby’s plethora of musical instruments, littering room after room. Karen had been very keen that he develop a musical talent whilst still young. If only their father didn’t keep standing and tripping over them in his hurry to leave the house for work at 5am.

“May I?” He gestured to her hand.

Sarah recalled fleeting flashes of stumbling around in a cold room, pressed up against searing warmth as incredible tranquillity filled her with dizzying clarity.

She offered him her hand gingerly, almost dazed. In a way, it was his fault she was injured. _He should fix it_ , she rationalised. 

Carefully he removed a glove from his left hand. Jareth cradled her injured hand whilst gently stroking pale fingers over the bleeding cut. The brief little bubble burst of energy he had gifted her (non-consensually) was nothing compared to being directly touched by _his_ magic.

His skin was exceedingly hot, as though he were powered by a thousand furnaces, forever stoking the flames beneath his flesh. Each small pass of his fingers sent the preternatural heat, seeping into her and allowing a rush of tingling ecstasy to flow up her entire arm.

Sarah watched him with hazy, unfocused eyes as he grinned at her blissed-out expression. He allowed her arm to drop away limply like a dead fish as she stared at him in wonderment. She was too busy feeling _everything_ to notice that her minor injury, totally deserving of **immediate** magical medical attention had been healed.

Somehow that unstoppable surge of heat had flooded her chest cavity and the very centre of her now burned with alarming intensity.

He wasn’t even touching her any more.

“Oh,” she whispered.

“Oh?” He asked, arching a quizzical eyebrow at her. 

The Goblin King was so dreadfully calm, as though completely unaware that he had turned her world upside down with a simple brush of his fingers.

Sarah pressed her newly healed hand to her chest, counting the rapid _thud-thud_ of her traitorous heartbeat. She tried her best to ignore the curious tilt of Jareth’s head as he watched an entire crisis frantically play out across her facial expressions.

 _It’s only because of his magic!_ She desperately insisted.

 _Oh yes, aren’t we fond of his magic,_ another part of her whispered back.

“I-” she choked out.

A hint of that wondrously awful heat that resided in his hands, shone in Jareth’s eyes as he stepped closer and enclosed his hand around her own again. “Are you quite well?” The false concern in his voice would have made Sarah roll her eyes if they weren’t too busy rolling into the back of her head out of pleasure.

 _It never feels like that normally when he grabs my hand!_ Her mind screeched.

She had never considered the fact that he had so rarely, touched her without a barrier.

“I-I’m fine,” Sarah squeaked, _you did not just moan,_ she chastised herself viciously. “H-here,” she practically threw the flower crown she had woven (with help) at the Goblin King, “There’s no point in me having two of them.” _Please stop looking at me._

The Goblin King considered the crown and softly smoothed out the petals she had mussed and displaced. “Interesting choices,” he murmured. With one last critical look, he placed it upon his mane of wild moon-silk locks; he twirled a lily petal in his hand before allowing it to drift back down to the earth below. 

To her disappointment, the Goblin King looked far from ridiculous with an array of flowers in his hair; some might say he pulled it off better than she did. _They would be wrong._

“Kingy pretty,” Amity remarked, grinning with gaping gums.

Sarah blinked in surprise, having forgotten that the goblin was still there.

The Goblin King made a flicking gesture and the goblin became silent, slumping back down into the grass without a fight.

“Ah, as lovely as it is to see you, I’ve things to do. Fiancées to meet.” Jareth’s eyes glittered dangerously as he returned his attention to Sarah, “It seems that the Queen of the Hollow Mountains wishes to dine with me this fine day.” It wasn’t difficult to hear the underlying bite in his voice. They were both well aware that Sarah would do anything but eat at his table, less he stopper her mouth with sweet fruits that induce dreams too painfully perfect for her to wrestle free of.

 _“Off you go then. I’ve challengers to prepare for. Fiancées to crush.”_ Is what she should have said.

Instead what came out was a strangled sound of dismay and a furious protestation of “No!”

 _No?_ The word was ringing in her head. 

_No, it wasn’t,_ Jareth had echoed it aloud with some degree of confusion.

Touching Jareth was obviously making her delirious. 

With iron-clad control, she pulled her hand away, mournful of the loss of the tingling sensation. Sarah stared up at him helplessly, with the horrifying realisation that the excitement and fire that so often danced in their conversations, now lingered in their touch and had left an imprint of its overpowering sparks in her very synapses.

_Ah, there’s the sense of impending doom. I’d wondered where it went._

Five years she had been doing this and the levy had broken over what, the casual mention of a Fae she’d never met? And how her feelings flooded out mercilessly, choking her words and swimming before her eyes

She cleared her throat. “I meant...go?”

She couldn’t even convince herself, let alone Jareth, who she was going to punch straight in his evil, ~~perfect,~~ smug mouth.

“I see,” the Goblin King smirked; the delight in his expression was mortifying. “I’ll give Helena, your regards, shall I?”

 _Why? Why was he going to force her to say it?_ The space between them was laden with so many unspoken words and the ropes of a thousand intentions, coiled in the shape of a razor-sharp noose.

 _Don’t go,_ she wanted to say.

 _Leave me alone,_ was a close follow up.

 _He is a liar,_ her mind whispered. A reminder. 

He lied as he paraded his fine paramours before her; the adoration he cultivated in their minds choked them like weeds as they thought of themselves far above a silly little mortal with a silly little game. His every smile and sickening pet name drew them closer to another loss. No, she refused to believe he cared about this Queen or any of his challengers that had shown neither hide nor hair after their defeat.

“What am I to you?” For all that she was screaming the words in her head; it came out as little more than a hoarse whisper.

Jareth’s head snapped back like he’d been struck. She wanted to snatch her words back and bury them in the earth where she played her games of deception, the games that she won.

“What are you _not_ to me?” The Goblin King countered, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her forward, no longer gentle or kind. Something wild and furious flashed behind scalding ice irises.

“Must you make a game of everything?” Sarah spat.

“Isn’t that your job?” The Goblin King laughed, uncaring of the pulsing heat and lazy pleasure he flooded her with from his touch. Sarah twisted her wrist in his grip but they were unyielding manacles; she glared daggers at him as his beautiful mouth uttered such mellifluous sounds. “ **Round and round we go, time after time you tell me n-”**

Sarah swiftly closed the distance and rammed her face into his.

There was nothing particularly romantic about the violent way she mashed her mouth against his. It was a fight Jareth responded to in kind, with all the might of a King challenged on the battleground. Their teeth clashed and his hands released her to dig into her hips with renewed intent, just as her own clawed at his hair, shredding sunshine hyacinth blossoms in her eagerness.

There would be bruises there later and she would delight in tracing over them when she remembered this.

She would make sure that he remember her the next time he was off on some dalliance with another challenger.

Sarah let free ever ounce of her festering frustration and pent up longing as her moans were swallowed up by Jareth’s devouring mouth.

Just as his hands had been, his mouth was blisteringly hot; he seared her with each kiss and left a trail of branding marks; he lathered the bites he lovingly left on her throat with more open-mouthed kisses.

His teeth were too sharp, jagged and inhuman. How many times had she caught a glimpse of them as he derided the fallen challengers and made threatening promises with such agonising devotion?

She didn’t care. She didn’t care about anything at the moment but ensuring she had _more, more, more._

It didn’t matter that her tongue was probably bleeding, too overwhelmed by the euphoric buzz of his magic sliding under her skin and warming her blood. It wasn’t just his magic that made her knees tremble and her insides turn molten, his touch did that alone.

When Jareth’s hand slithered up the back of her shirt, he made sure it was the ungloved one, leaving a blazing imprint of fire along her spine. He made little protestation as she nipped him back, groaning indulgently and holding her closer against the frantic hammering of his heart under armour that did little to protect him. It was vindication; he was as affected as she was.

He pulled back for a moment, pupils blown wide with lust that bled away into something almost tender as he resumed kissing her senseless.

Just when she began to wonder whether they could stay like this, trapped in an eternal cycle of want, they were interrupted by the sharp cough of another person in the garden.

 _Lurking,_ she considered, darkly.

Sarah tore her mouth away sharply, her hazy thoughts snapping back into focus as the dizzying warmth receded but failed to withdraw entirely. 

The Goblin King let loose a snarl that transformed his face into a bestial mask of displeasure. Teeth that had nipped and toyed with the vulnerable skin above her pulse now looked ready to rip and rend flesh into a mess of gore.

A delicate-looking Fae wearing a circlet of silver, cast a critical eye over the two of them. “I am Hylla of the Hollow Mountains. Odd indigo eyes bored into her, but she was beyond caring about the disarray of her clothes and the numerous reddened marks against her neck. “I take it I wasn’t expected.”

“Get out.” The venomous words had been growled by none other than the Champion.

“I think not,” she sniffed, “I’ve come a long way to marry, this...” The Queen trailed off, looking for the right words, “Thing.”

Jareth’s look of affront coalesced into something insidious.

 _Thing._ She would dare to call him a thing. _Something to conquer. Something to take from._

Sarah’s disgust soured her internal organs; its septic encroaching, poisoned her blood and left her to spew a stew of vitriol. “Get out of my Labyrinth!” She hissed.

She was absolutely sick of them, sick of all of them. Mesmerising creatures that lay all over Jareth, so certain of their victories. They all held scorn for her poor pathetic mortal self when it was their empty, glittery heads that failed to make heads or tails of her challenges. Well, she’d show her.

The intruder’s eyes flashed crimson. Before she could approach them there was a deafening rumble, the ground beneath their feet shook violently and cracks branched out, splitting apart the grass. Sarah’s eyes flickered to Jareth in alarm, she’d never known there to be earthquakes here (at least ones not induced by Ludo after he eats Hoggle’s ‘Sunday Soup Surprise’).

But the Goblin King’s visage remained steely calm as he watched his Labyrinth warp and twist, unyielding walls suddenly bent and bowed, rising up and encircling the Queen of the Hollow Mountains. His still gloved, right hand flexed agitatedly as though he had a sudden cramp in it.

Sarah watched half-fascinated, half-horrified as the glittering bricks of crystal-studded stone convulsed, as though swallowing. The walls stretched out further and further away from the garden where they stood; the spasmodic rhythm was repeated as a shrill shriek grew more and more distant the further the ripples grew.

All at once, the walls receded back into the earth as though they had never been birthed.

“What was that?” She fought to keep a tremor out of her voice. There was something almost elegantly brutal about the way deceptively inanimate brick had united in an aggressive attack.

Jareth didn’t answer for a long moment, his expression inscrutable as glacial eyes bored into her with all the might that the Kingdom’s walls held within them.

“The Labyrinth...sent her away,” he replied carefully.

“Why?” Sarah already knew the answer, and as she watched the ice melt away in his eyes and noticed the strangely dazed look coming over him, she knew he did too.

It was difficult to feel sorry for Hylla, after interrupting _that._

“Because you told it to.” Jareth’s breath was laboured; insultingly so, more ragged than when he had been kissing her within an inch of her life. “You said _my Labyrinth._ ” There was nothing accusatory about the wonder in his face.

“Ah,” embarrassment curdled in her stomach. She reached for Jareth’s gloved hand, squeezing it apologetically. “I didn’t mean to say that.” Her tongue still tingled from where the words had slipped forth, truer and sharper than any insult she had ever directed at him.

 _How long had the Labyrinth been her home?_ Her safe refuge from the mundanity of paying bills and the constant pull of her parents to tie her life down to a suitable person. Some days she thought that they wanted grandchildren, more than they wanted their actual children.

A feral joy glowed in the Goblin King’s eyes as he took her other hand, simply holding on to her as flickers of dizzying power started to spark between them again. “Oh, you didn’t?”

That was familiar.

 _What’s said is said..._ her mind reminded her in the Goblin King’s taunting voice.

And despite the euphoric delight that was trying to burst out of her and the undeniable desire to latch onto Jareth again, greedily. Sarah couldn’t help but feel like she had made an irreversible mistake.

The heat of his skin grew impossibly hot, now painful. Sarah pulled back with a yelp, eyes growing wide as they observed the strange sigil of gold, now branded to the back of her hand. It throbbed and pulsed in time to the frenzied pounding of her heart, interlocking lines woven into a maze with no entrance and no exit.

Sarah scrubbed at the mark desperately, clawing at the imprint that was rooted in far beneath her skin. It remained indelible, like an unblinking eye, vast and all-seeing it stared back without repentance.

She turned her venomous gaze upon the Goblin King, only for him to yank his second glove off, displaying the same horrifyingly familiar pattern living within his flesh. 

“What have you done?” Her voice was pleading, begging him to deny what was excruciatingly obvious.

These were the words she had greeted him with when she had first been recalled into his life by Labyrinthine ties.

“What have **you** done?” His tone was almost malicious; she would think him furious if not for his jubilant smile. 

There was very little room for ambiguous interpretation. 

“Had I known you’d give me a magical STD from kissing, I could have lived without touching you.” Sarah snarled back.

The Goblin King only laughed, “How many of my challengers have I kissed? Caressed? None bear the mark that you do. That is by your own design.”

The hand that he had stroked so gently, filling it with warmth and power as he tenderly sealed her wounds now had the same fevered temperature that the Goblin King’s skin had.

She didn’t want this.

 _Of course, you do,_ her mind whispered back, _what did you expect would happen if you kissed him, if he knew that you wanted him?_

_That doesn’t mean that I want to be trapped. Bound. Whatever he’s done to me._

Sarah’s heart was trying to crawl out of her throat, her innards were combusting as a deadly heat started to weave into her blood once more.

She could only watch in terror as the Goblin King knelt down on the grass, eyes alight with elation and skin-crawling triumph. “Hail to the Goblin Queen.”

A voice shouldn’t be capable of sounding both reverent and mocking at the same time.

The villain of her childhood gazed **up** at her in victory.

_None of the others were good enough. You’d never have let them win._

As much as she was cognizant of this truth, it didn’t change the fact that he hadn’t asked. He’d taken and assumed and captured with words and hidden intentions. _Why could he never learn to ask?_

How long had he been hiding behind his lovely fiancés and fiancées, sucking and teasing eager flesh, delighting with his duplicitous mouth whilst imagining that she was the Challenging Champion to reign over them all?

_Can you be angry at him for doing what is in his nature?_

His nature told him to take Toby, to take any poor unfortunate soul that had been wished-away.

How repulsive was her own nature that that was _redeemable_ , that his only fault in her eyes was that he hadn’t asked her if she wanted this; when deep down they both knew a part of her did.

It was little surprise that Sarah fell back into the dictates of her own nature. She needed to run, to flee this place. She needed to think.

Just as she had done many times before after her challenges were complete, Sarah attempted to return above, thinking of her cramped apartment with the leaky roof, her Wednesday book club and Toby’s cello recitals. She screwed her eyes uptight.

“This is your domain now, my love. Trying to leave is a futile endeavour.” Jareth chided, rising to his feet with an incongruous sense of superiority for one that had been knelt in the dirt.

If Sarah’s heartbeat quickened any more she’d be in danger of having a coronary disaster. It brought her despair to think that Jareth would somehow find that a satisfying end to her, killed by her own heart.

Her eyes flashed open. “I am not your love.”

“Oh yes you are,” The Goblin King replied, his voice sing-song sweet in its contradiction. “Do you know how **easy** it is to make a simple little declaration of intent to rule?” His laughter was abrasive, like shards of glass scratching her eardrums, “And how **impossible** it is to best the Labyrinth and its challenges?”

Jareth’s eyes landed on her clenched fist, sigil still steadily glowing. He reached across and caressed her cheek with the back of his own branded hand, sending another wave of mind-blowing pleasure crashing through her. “You’re all backwards, darling. Back to front and upside down” he grinned. “ **Your Labyrinth** has waited such a long time for you to claim it.” When Sarah’s knees buckled, he caught her arm, shaking his head in false pity, “Time enough has passed, little Wife.”

Sarah slapped him hard across the face, with burning hatred and a scalding hand she placed every iota of her fury behind it. Jareth reeled backwards, stunned by the force of her blow. He rubbed the blooming mark on his cheek, eyes huge and oddly innocent.

“I am not your wife, you can’t just decide that.” She felt ill, she felt like she wanted to cry and never stop, not until this garden was flooded and her _husband_ drowned in her grief.

_Now who's being overdramatic?_

It stung. Had he come to her and asked to stop playing these games with his suitors, if he’d given an indication of his so-called _love..._ what would she have done? It frightened her to think of how unopposed she would have been to this mere minutes ago when she had been trying to mesh their bodies together.

_Right intention...wrong action, or was it the other way..?_

No, she wouldn’t be his wife. She wouldn’t be something demeaningly **won** from a long calculating game that culminated in his victory. It didn’t matter that she wanted him, or that she wanted to claw the eyes out of every man and woman who looked at him with lust. 

“Put aside your foolish pride, beloved.” Sarah scowled to see the mark she had left fade so swiftly from his face, “Upon your head, you wear a crown, and it was you who kissed me. The time for fighting is in the past.”

 _Love...darling...beloved..._ the words sunk into her like needles. Was she being prideful?

A part of her was pleased to see the intensity of his joy at calling her wife, a title she had guarded viciously from all others. But there was something else, _something wrong._ In all their years and all their exchanged words, he hadn’t learnt what it was to be honest. And so, even now his intentions were a mystery, sunken beneath depths and layer after layer of misdirection and sugar-coated words.

If she was to marry him, it would be on her terms, not his.

_Beloved...darling...love..._

Her name was still absent from his repertoire. 

“My name, the name of your _so-called wife,_ is Sarah. Use it!” She exclaimed, in exasperation. She hated the names he called her, how many had there been that he had named thusly? Many a _darling_ and _dearest_ had passed through his castle with the intent to win his Kingdom. Sarah was her name; hers alone and he would use it.

The Goblin King’s eyes brightened with mirth, “Ah yes, your name. Your lovely name, to name something is to have power over it. And I shall name you S-S-Sa-” He began to heave out great hacking coughs.

Mismatched eyes bulged as he choked on the name that refused to slip free. “S-Sa- **Champion** ,” he finished; he shot her a seething look full of loathing as the wrong name burst forth. 

“No power over me,” Sarah chided, almost breathless with surprise. “You can’t say it. You could never say it.”

Jareth’s lip curled into a sneer, “If I cannot call you by your name, I shall simply call you **my** wife. For that is what you are. You have **won** me,” he stalked closer, keeping a wary eye on her in case she decided to lash out again, circling and circling her like she were his prey. 

“I may be worthy of being your wife, of being a Queen, but you are not worthy of being my husband.” Sarah refuted, with a gleam in her eyes, mind furiously unpicking the words he had handed her, “What have you done to win me?”

The sky overhead became overcast and the peach tree she had been sat under began to shiver in anticipation. The sudden chill of the air was almost a balm to her throbbing golden-tainted hand.

“Everything!” Jareth snapped, “I have given you my Kingdom. I have given you myself. What more could you possibly want?”

“How about something I’ve actually asked for.”

“Oh you did,” he sneered, “With every flash of jealousy in your eyes, every vindictive smile as you crushed your foes. You certainly asked for this when you pressed your mouth to mine, with no intention of releasing me.” 

“I wanted to win,” she hissed back.

“Yes, you always want to win,” Jareth looked almost fond, “And now that you have, you’re back to wailing about the bitter unfairness of life once more.” He pressed his hand to her face again, open-palmed and surprisingly gentle for the forcefulness of his diatribe. “I think you would have let me take you, right there, pressed into the yielding earth. Would you like me to remind you, how good it feels to give in for once?”

Her thoughts were hazy, manic joy was flooding her senses and causing her limbs to relax against her will.

But her will was as strong.

Sarah laid her head against Jareth’s shoulder, her mind clouding over in thoughtless bliss. When Jareth released his hand from her face and bent his head to kiss her, she bit his lip hard.

Blood stained her lips and she laughed at him. 

A single finger swiped at his bloodied lip and he stared at the ruby droplet with fascination. Frigid eyes flickered to her with calculated tension. He certainly didn’t like her laughter anymore.

_Had no one ever hurt him before? Told him no?_

From her pocket, she pulled out a familiar stone, smooth and dove grey with webbed cracks running through it.

“Perhaps you’d like to prove your worthiness, challenger.” Sarah taunted.

*

~*o0o*~

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I gave a little look at flower meanings, some of which are quite variable but for the purposes of this story this is what they reflect:
> 
> The crown Amity wears: Black dahlias (betrayal, sadness)  
> The crown Amity makes for Sarah: Purple Asters (royalty), White Chrysanthemums (loyalty, devoted love), Rosemary (memory), Geranium (stupidity, foolishness)  
> The crown Sarah makes for Jareth: Purple Asters (royalty), Yellow Hyacinths (jealousy), Forget-Me-Nots (fidelity, truth), White Lilies (purity, death, rebirth)
> 
> Hmm, I'm not sure Sarah's actions are entirely rational; there may be a grain of truth to Jareth taunting her about her pride, but I feel like she would still be affronted by a threat to her agency.
> 
> How do you think Jareth will fair in the Game with One Rule?
> 
> We've officially entered the misty waters of morally grey Jareth...but this is a Dark Jareth fic...so you know... ;-)


	6. Within the bricks, what did you bury?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Essentially Jareth and Sarah spend over 6k arguing and pushing rocks around in the mud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We begin with a flashback that will hold no resemblance to future events I'm sure:-)
> 
> I can't believe I have one more chapter to go.
> 
> I've realised that this Sarah is quite morally grey herself. Naivety can cover a range of sins but not all.

*

~*o0o*~

*

 _A fat lot of good Jareth’s intervention is,_ Sarah thought viciously as a gleaming silver arrow shot past her and embedded itself into a tree. The tree began to wail gratingly and the whorls in the bark opened up into gaping mouths, stretched wide in agony.

_Just what I needed, a damn tree alerting her._

Sarah shot a wary look across the river; her feet were aching and blister worn; if her clothes hadn’t been sticking to her from the sheer amount of sweat pouring out of her then the icy grasp of the river’s touch would have done the job as thoroughly. Alas, wet fabric clung to her like a second skin, a second skin that was built to impede movement and weigh her down, so it was more like an additional fifty skins, in retrospect.

Nessa was grinning at her from across the water, bow in hand as she surveyed the short expanse of space she would have to cross to capture her.

What could make a stranger so determined to capture her? What did she see when she looked at Sarah?

“There’s no need to keep running, pretty human,” her suitor’s battle armour of complicated leather braiding was pinned taut to her arms as she readied her bow once more. “You’d be far happier with me and mine.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you!” Sarah snapped back, her instincts screamed at her to keep running. Civility urged her to continue with meaningless small talk. Before instinct could win over, Nessa said something that gave her pause.

“You’d be safer too. From him,” she chuckled, “We’d all be safer.” The hand that clutched the delicate birch arrow hovered as her pursuer allowed her shimmering golden fingers to trace over the edge of a small bottle around her neck.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” A creeping sense of dread began to well up inside of her. She was safe, for years she had been safe in this Labyrinth. No resident would dare to harm her or cause misfortune upon fear of bogging or the occasional threat of being sent to work in the kitchens; even Sarah had a healthy fear of that place.

 _Jareth would never hurt me,_ she concluded decisively, _he promised he would protect me from her. He won’t just leave me here at her mercy._

He’d never raised a hand to her or a single wisp of malignant magic. 

In fact, Jareth continued to remain frustratingly out of reach.

Before Nessa could respond, her eyes were suddenly drawn to the river below. Sarah could vaguely recall that Nessa and Marietta had both been from a Kingdom involving rivers, although she couldn’t quite remember which one. The statuesque suitor drew her bow sharply and aimed it at the crystal clear waters.

Soft ripples began to form on its surface, like fractals their recurring circular patterns repeated before an enormous jet of water burst forth, shockingly forming contour lines of a fist across the mass of aqua. 

The hand enclosed the screeching hunter, dragging her into the depths of the water below. Just when Sarah started to feel a prickle of concern for the woman, her head breached the surface and the rapids started to pull her downstream. Away from Sarah.

The water began to curdle and putrefy before her eyes, and an eye-watering miasma assaulted her senses.

What remained of the hand and its quavering lines, bleeding back into the toxic and tainted river below, made a half-hearted attempt to wave at her.

“You took your time,” Sarah spoke breathlessly, too relieved to feel the outrage that had been bubbling inside of her for the duration she’d been pursued.

 _It can’t have been more than half an hour,_ came the unwanted input of her mind, _that’s nowhere near as bad as being chased for a full thirteen hours._

A distorted voice, called from the very bowels of the bog infested river responded, “ **Now, now, I had to give her a sporting chance.”**

*

~*o0o*~

*

Sarah rubbed her thumb over the smooth surface of her stone playing-piece. It was an unusual choice for an icon. Her opponents always took such pride in choosing a piece that was beautiful, even though neither the beauty of the playing-piece nor of the player would aid them in attaining victory.

There had been flowers and ornate hair clips, on one occasion someone had used a lapis butterfly caught in an inhumanely small jar.

Despite knowing that any playing piece was irrelevant, Sarah had grown attached the grey stone with the delicate webbed cracks that she had placed down on the ground below. She’d found it one day in a river after she went to wash away the dirt she’d accumulated from tussling with Ludo over the scrabble pieces he’d eaten. Sir Didymus, of course, had been flattered that they spelt out his name, and by name he meant that Ludo had consumed the letter ‘d’ first, followed by several miscellaneous letters that probably weren’t in his name unless there were a lot of silent vowels and ‘x’s in ‘Didymus.’

No, the Game with One Rule had everything to do with the player, not the pieces and certainly not the board.

The lofty King sat down in the dirt beside her, just as he had done once before, just as they all did. It brought her an unhealthy degree of satisfaction to see his lovely mahogany cloak stained and tarnished by the trappings of a game of human design.

A clear crystal, no bigger than a marble, was rolled fluidly between each finger, arching onto the back of ungloved hands. Seeing the Goblin King’s bare hands shouldn’t have sent a brilliant scarlet flush to her face. For all the innocence and benignity of his motions and countenance, Sarah could scarcely forget the insurmountable reservoir of power boiling away beneath the surface.

Jareth placed his playing-piece, smaller than her own, right beside her stone. After a moment’s hesitation, he moved it on top. There was no earthly reason why it shouldn’t have rolled off the curved surface, yet the crystal remained resolute.

Shooting him a scowl, Sarah tipped his crystal off and slid her stone diagonally across the board, skimming three poorly drawn squares that made up a fraction of the board drawn into the mud. In a way, it was almost a point of pride for her to make the game as dirty and unappealing as possible. Her opponents were too busy sneering at how the dirt clung to their fingernails and marked up their knees to pay attention to what she was doing. 

But not Jareth.

He hadn’t breathed a word of contempt since the game began, and he had studied her in silence as she drew her board into the earth, beneath the peach tree. 

Every action, each nudge of her stone and carefully levelled word would decide her fate.

 _‘Labyrinth stone, Labyrinth mud,’_ the words reverberated through her head teasingly.

“Are you sure about that move?” Jareth murmured softly, a waterfall of silver-blonde hair half-obscured his face from view as he leaned forward to scrutinise the board.

“Quite sure,” Sarah responded coolly.

“It is just that you established a pattern of pursuing me across the board, now you’re avoiding me,” his voice held a note of faux-confusion, “It’s enough to make anyone bemused about your intentions.”

“If you know the rule, by all means, please enlighten me.” It grated on her that he was mirroring the phrases _she’d_ used on the challengers. Words designed to trick and to trap. Misdirection was her game, not his.

“Hmm, I’ll let you know.” The sheer confidence in his voice made Sarah’s hand falter for a moment as she jumped her stone over Jareth’s crystal twice and rested it to the side. This time, when he reached for his playing-piece, he made sure to brush the back of his hand against hers, sending a short jab of heat and energy spiking through her.

Her hand still smarted from the mark it now bore. No wonder Jareth wore gloves all the time if he constantly carried a glowing beacon engraved into his skin. Wryly, a part of her considered how beneficial it would have been to use it as a flashlight when she sneaked her books under her quilt as a child. She vehemently rejected any implications that she was growing fond of the blazing icon and the lazy heat winding its way up her arm.

It felt like power.

Tantalising and dangerous.

 _You’re a Queen,_ she reminded herself. The thought made her shudder for not entirely unpleasant reasons. For a moment the sun appeared to shine a little brighter, parting the clouds and warming their unnoticed part of the garden.

Jareth was smiling at her again. In fact, he hadn’t stopped smiling from the moment he set eyes upon the stone she cast to the ground in challenge. 

For possessing all the wildness of a caged animal that sought to capture and conquer, he was maintaining a shockingly placid facade.

“I suppose you’d rather be playing something like Chess, you’re quite attached to the roles,” Sarah mocked, hadn’t every one of her challengers lamented her choice of challenge? She wasn’t quite sure that the game they’d been playing from the beginning hadn’t been some form of Chess sans a board. 

Black and white.

Which was she?

White moved first, and she’d certainly been the first to strike, the first to call the Goblin King into her life. And now that she’d finally made it to the opposite side of the board, a crown of ebony instead of ivory sat upon her head, a leaden weight.

Your pieces weren’t supposed to change allegiance in Chess; no wonder she was so terrible at the game.

Jareth tilted his head consideringly, eyes trailing up from her bare arm to her face, noticing her own eyes determinedly staring back. “ _But you’ve never played Chess, dearest. Why is that?_ ”

Sarah blinked for a moment, head ringing. “ _Perhaps I was tired of protecting Kings from well-deserved attacks_.” Her thoughts were bleeding together into an inky inscrutable mess as she heard an odd echo reverberate from her speech.

“ _Everyone knows it is the Queen that is the most useful piece on the board,_ ” Jareth spoke conversationally, snapping her back into focus as he slid his crystal to the end of the board on the right. “ _Some would say the game is really about her. **She** has all of the power_.” 

“Power over you.” The words fell from her mouth without thinking, she watched the Goblin King sharply inhale through his nose, his easy smile shattering into something that could leave splinters embedded within skin. Skin that still felt too sensitive and both loathed as well as craved the next fleeting touch. This time it was Sarah that allowed her pinky finger to drag across the underside of Jareth’s wrist as she placed her stone, one square in front of him.

“I’ve never denied that.”

How could someone so full of pride and distaste for all those that sought to win his Kingdom, so easily concede his power with a casual phrase? It was nothing short of alarming. Sarah dug her nails in and clung to every scrap of power she could scrape together, ripping it away from her challengers and sweetly plying it from Jareth after testing the strength of his hold.

Sarah bit her lip softly. She wondered what she was doing bating him. Maybe there were things she wanted other than victory after all. 

“Zira was right,” Jareth flicked the crystal idly, watching it roll. “This game is very human.”

“Zella,” she corrected instantly, “In what way is this game human? If you’re about to wax lyrical about the superiority of your kind over humanity’s tendency to crawl around in the dirt you can spare me.” She’d heard it all before. “It was a human that defeated them all in the end.”

Jareth laughed at her answer, eyes shining with mirth and unshed secrets. Even now, when they were playing _her_ game he was still laughing at her.

“Firstly,” he weighed the word on his barbed tongue, consideringly, “I have no desire to remember the names of the sycophants and fools that flock to my Kingdom. It will do them good to consider their insignificance.”

The image of the Goblin King’s malevolent fury as he glared at the painting in the gallery came to mind without her active intent to recall it. 

She could almost smell the acrid burning and taste the covering of ash blanketing the skies and saturating her senses.

“And secondly,” he held up two fingers, starkly pale in the shade provided by the tree’s kindly leaves. “I care not about your predilections towards the earth, others could benefit from estimating its value more accurately.” And with that, he flicked his crystal once more so it stood next to her stone piece. “I must concede, you were always a ruthless combatant.”

Oh, she did not like the jagged grin he directed at her. He wasn’t supposed to be complimenting and placating her. He was supposed to be frustrated and frankly bamboozled by this point; they’d been playing for almost two hours.

Back and forth. Insignificant movements in the mud with their stones and their crystals.

How long would it take before he finally made a guess? Before she could throw his claim back in his face?

What if he intended to continue on like this forever? There was only one rule and that rule didn’t govern a time frame.

Sarah felt resignation sink heavily into her bones; it would be just like Jareth to use such a loophole to his advantage, suspending them in a limbo of half obligations and promises.

By what promises were they bound to one another? 

She had promised him protection, just as he had promised to retaliate against any who pursued her. Neither of them had brought themselves into the equation. The heat in his eyes and his reverent utterances as he tied himself to her as protector had left her craving more of his poison-tipped words, for the poison burned so pleasantly in her veins.

He hadn’t promised he wouldn’t pursue her.

She did not promise him any protection against herself.

What a pair they made.

Thinking of Nessa had unconsciously drawn her hand to her chest where a tiny bottle lurked. She uncovered it from the safe obscurity of her blouse, rolling it between her fingers as she studied the board.

The Goblin King’s eyes pinned her in place, the disgust upon his face tugged at his features until they were torn into a grotesque caricature. “Carrying around trinkets from your past suitor, how...sweet,” his voice was little more than a low hiss, “I didn’t think you cared about the **vile, scheming river-dweller**.” 

Vindication oozed out of her every pore as Sarah continued to play with her gift, “You’ve said that before,” she commented idly, tracing the cork top. “What do you have against rivers?”

The Goblin King leaned over the board to meet her, his face close enough that the harsh breath he exhaled, fanned across her face. “I only have a problem with **one** very specific river.”

“Why?” she frowned, curious in spite of herself, “Did you almost drown in it?”

The Goblin King’s sounds of previous mirth now came out strangled, “No, by the Fates I know I wouldn’t have survived that.”

 _The Fates,_ those words prodded at the back of her mind.

Sarah released the bottle, letting it swing back against her chest, where she tucked it neatly under her clothing once more. Jareth stared at her glassy-eyed for a moment, before returning his attention to the board.

“What were we discussing?” He inquired; an unsettled expression crossed his face as he pulled his head back.

Sarah shook her head incredulously; either the Goblin King was getting on a bit or...or...

_Hmm_

What _exactly_ had Nessa given her? 

A bottle of water was a poor defence when you didn’t even know what it did; especially coming from a woman whose intentions she couldn’t trust.

“The Fae are an odd kind,” Jareth mused, circling his crystal around the stone she had set in the centre. “Constrained by so many rules and driven to look for patterns in all that is hidden from sight. They are privileged, after all, to have insight into the hidden.” His temporary confusion appeared to have vanished, pressing on with intent and an odd razor edge to his words. “They like to exploit rules mercilessly and yet they cannot fathom cheating.”

She forgot to breathe, an icy chill permeated her skin, causing her to draw her arms up to shield herself from his accusation. “I’m not cheating,” Sarah declared resolutely, forcing the waver from her voice. _Did he know? Had he worked it out?_ She pressed the warmth of her burning hand against her chest but ended up feeling colder despite the preternatural heat.

The Goblin King enclosed his own hand over her free one where it lingered above her playing piece, caging her between the unyielding bars of his fingers. “Cheating is of no concern to me.”

“It wouldn’t be,” Sarah sneered, trying to ignore the buttery melting feeling flooding up her arm, “You stole my time when it suited you.”

Jareth tilted his head, keeping her hand trapped he moved in closer, for one devastating moment she thought he might kiss her again, press his acerbic mouth and sweeter tongue against her own. “I already told you that **you** are my basis for comparison. Humanity that is,” he confirmed, shifting so that he could breathe his duplicitous words into her ear, “The Labyrinth is built upon the desires of Fae and humans alike. It is positively saturated in your expectations and deceptive nature. If we are liars it is only what you have made of us yourselves.”

“Remove your hand, or I’ll remove it from you,” she whispered back, in a sweet simpering tone she assumed his suitors liked to indulge in.

The sunlight shone upon his face, lighting up the proud haughtiness of his features and the smug upturn to his thin lips, “But whatever would you do with it after removing it from me? You may not keep it but I assure you, I am more than happy to lend its attentions to you.”

A surge of heat, swiftly headed south as she squirmed uncomfortably on the grass. Before she could restate her denials he released her hand, placing his crystal atop her stone once more, with an air of amusement.

“I’m half surprised none of your failed competitors have come after me, seeking revenge.” Sarah confided, quickly changing the subject from whatever she could imagine his hands doing. 

At one time, vengeance had been a prevalent concern for Sarah after the Spider Queen had promised death to her hatchlings and ruin upon any web she ever wove. Luckily, Sarah wasn’t really one for knitting.

The Christmas jumper she had attempted to make could only be classed as a straight-jacket if you were looking at it diplomatically.

Come to think of it, she’d like to blame her for her recent disaster with the flower crowns.

“You needn’t concern yourself with the Labyrinth’s failed ones, my lovely one,” the Goblin King assured her, “I shall never allow them to touch you. Not one.”

_The Labyrinth’s failed ones..._

How many had there been over the years she’d been doing this? 

She’d bested so many with her games, one after the other they’d lost...

...and she had revelled in her victory each and every time, gradually accumulating power over what had been a confusing situation that had been forced upon her.

“What happens to the ones that fail?” She asked hesitantly. It was a question she had asked before but never really wanted to know the answer to; she had accepted his vague none-descriptions and counted herself lucky she wouldn’t encounter them again, sat astride Jareth. How it made the unspoken words inside her head, gnash and throw themselves at her steadfast mouth, jailed behind gritted teeth. “They just go back home, _right_?” 

She had tried desperately to keep the note of pleading out of her voice. He caught it anyway, eyes glittering with triumph as he plucked her dawning horror from the air and savoured it.

Why had she never seen them again, not one of them?

_“They were unavailable for comment.”_

**“One by one, my suitors fall. Death within these Labyrinth walls,”** Jareth sang, his chilling words dredging up a memory she had forgotten. 

She had been far too consumed by his audacity in dragging her Underground again, of the inconvenience of the situation. _You’ve been paying attention to the wrong things,_ his voice mocked her inside of the screaming disorder of her thoughts.

_Oh, Gods..._

“My pretty little mayfly fiancées and fiancés. What fine baubles they make.” 

The words to his song rang through her head like discordant bells made of bone.

Jareth twisted his wrist in a familiar gesture, steadily rolling a larger crystal from one hand to the other. So unlike the diminutive marble he had been toying with on the board below; this crystal captured the light above and she saw hazy figures flicker within its depths.

“You can’t mean-”

“Just kindling for the fire.” His smile was disturbingly pleasant.

Sarah felt like she was going to throw up, the garden rippled and contorted before her eyes as she noticed fragments of crystal, crushed and embedded within the very walls of the Labyrinth _. Oh, how it glittered and shone in the brilliant sunlight._

_Shattered dreams and dusty relics of lives. Brick by brick the Labyrinth was built._

“Your Kingdom is a demanding one, as you’ve no doubt learnt. How it hungers.” Jareth laughed softly, the same ravenous delight in his voice. “Many a wondrous sacrifice have you gifted this land as all fell to your words and your trickery.” The sheer brutal pride in his eyes winded her more violently than any blow he could bestow. “It has been a delight to watch you care for us. To **feed** us, Champion.” Deadly intent lingered in his mismatched, inhuman gaze, “Goblin Queen, **my** Queen.”

Sarah rose unsteadily to her feet, knees aching and her vision swimming from either rage or tears. What had she done?

 _But you knew,_ part of her whispered slyly.

_You had to have known the consequences of victory._

_And you didn’t care._

“You’re fucking disgusting,” Sarah’s voice was broken up, spitting out harsh syllables with venom and sorrow. “You murdered them.”

He didn’t look remorseful, not one iota. He sighed as though her hysterics were nought but an inconvenience. “Is it really me that disgusts you? If only you’d let one win, their lives could have been spared.” Jareth shook his head sadly, as though lamenting _her actions._

“You didn’t want them to win either!” Sarah hissed back, “Neither of us wanted them to win. At least I didn’t capture their souls in crystal and feed them to a sadistic pile of rubble.”

Something bright and dangerous flared in the Goblin King’s eyes and she couldn’t help but shudder as the air turned cold around them. The light leeched away from the skies, casting the garden into darkness.

The Labyrinth was hungry, it was born starving and would remain in the throes of gluttony and avarice as long as it stood. 

“Ah, love, I’d be careful about insulting the Labyrinth,” he responded calmly, too calmly.

The last time she’d done that he’d tried to have her viscera smeared across his tunnels.

“We are so very fond of our Queen, but she must learn the consequences of her hurtful words,” the Goblin King chided, almost sickeningly paternalistic. He continued to spin his crystal around; it was luminous against the encroaching shadows and the distant rumble of displeased earth below their feet. “I _gifted_ you one of those souls if you’ll recall. Now sit back down pretty one, let us finish this game.”

“Gifted? **Who** did you gift me?” She didn’t want to ask, the incredulity rose to the surface beyond her control. Who had he crushed in his hands and whose ash had been dusted across her skin as a _refreshment_?

“Why your **filthy little river-dweller** , of course.” He smiled mockingly, “Technically not one of my Labyrinthine challengers but you did ask me to intervene, darling. And the Bog wasn’t nearly enough for her.”

Sarah fell back to her knees, the board only visible from the light of the tiny marble playing piece and the luminance of her gold-threaded skin. She pressed her throbbing hand to her head, stiffening a yelp of surprise as she watched the spiralling pattern extend; looping swirls spun up her arm to the crook of her elbow, pulsing like veins of sunlight beneath her skin.

He’d turned her into a monster. 

She was already a monster.

How many people had she killed?

 _You’re wearing Nessa beneath your skin,_ his voice teased her in her mind.

“Surely they knew the consequences,”she tried to reason. She didn’t want to accept the blame but seeking absolution from the Goblin King was fruitless.

“Oh yes, don’t you remember their fury and their tears upon failure; they surely knew that you would kill them _._ ”Jareth gestured to the board, urging her to make a move, “But you stood back and watched as the little cloud nymph sobbed for her father and her home, feeling so superior.”

“I-I didn’t know...” Sarah protested; all she could remember was the putrefying jealousy, choking up her insides and constricting her heart. All because Jareth had dared to smile at the girl in his office. Dead over a game of Eye-Spy.

“So much you did not know and did not see, it is a marvel that you bested all those unfortunate suitors with such a staggering lack of perception.” The Goblin King laughed once more, cold and high like the slice of a tripwire cutting into flesh and sending the unbalanced to their knees. “I may have taken their souls but you severed them from their mortal coils.”

“You didn’t have to,” she forced the words out, moving her stone listlessly to the left of the board. “You could have let them go home, even if their lives were forfeit.”

“Yes,” he agreed instantly, not even pretending it was beyond his control. “But why should I have done so?”

“Have you no compassion?” Was such a concept, that alien to him? 

She could believe that; not a glint of regret had lingered in his eyes as he watched her rejoice in her victories.

“Compassion won’t fill our bellies or satisfy us; I’m sure you’ll find you can no longer sustain yourself on insipid moral superiority.”

Jareth rolled his crystal playing-piece backwards as though preparing to launch it at her stone, eyes of glacial coldness watched her in fascination as she wiped her eyes on the back of her tainted hand; each droplet sizzled away as it made contact with contaminated flesh.

It felt like something was growing within her and she would be ripped apart by it when it had finished blooming.

She had to beat him now; there was no other choice to be had. Even if she couldn’t reverse her claim upon the Labyrinth as its Queen, she would not take Jareth as her husband.

Bile rose to her throat as she remembered how strongly she had desired his attention, to force him to look at her and only her. And yet, he had been watching her all along, just as she had been watching him to the detriment of all other details around her. 

And now she had him; the thought made her shudder and it wasn’t entirely from the disgust she swore she felt. He wanted her and hadn’t cared what it would cost anyone else to keep on playing this game.

She wanted to cut out every sick part of her that felt flattered, that wanted to reach out to him again and feel the connection of his magic touching her, within her.

“You were the first to best my Labyrinth,” Jareth spoke contemplatively, as though the woman he claimed he wanted to marry wasn’t having a breakdown in front of him, “Even before they forgot me, none managed to seize control of this Kingdom.”

“Didn’t you have to beat it to become King?” Were they making small talk? She really was going insane, addled and twisted out of shape by his guiding hands.

“I suppose you could say it is mine by **birthright**.” He countered her diagonal sweep to the end of the board with one of his own, mirroring her.

“A birth involving no mother,” she tested, “What exactly are you?”

“What a question,” the Goblin King chuckled, the sound could make feral beasts cower in fear, “What would you like me to be?”

“That isn’t how it works. What are you?” Sarah reiterated, what kind of monster was he? For now she was certain that she was the same kind of monster.

“I am capricious and I am ever-changing. I am one and I am many.” He bared his teeth into a smile that could snap sinew and bone, “I am your husband.”

“Not yet, you aren’t.” Sarah corrected, hanging on to her sanity by a delicate thread. There would be no other runners or challengers; if she had to be stuck here in any capacity she would see this Labyrinth waste away and starve once more.

“Unfortunately, it is within the nature of Kingdoms to desire to enslave themselves to the will of their rulers. It has taken such a long time to find a worthy one.” Jareth shifted his position. Sarah almost recoiled from the abject want radiating from his face as his eyes scoured her dirt-smeared hands and tear-streaked face, softening into a smile of satisfaction as he noticed her returning glare of hatred. “I believe it is my turn once more, precious thing.”

The Goblin King planted both hands in the dirt, the fragile grooves worked into the mud warped and the board was distorted with the simple touch of his ungloved hands; his crystal rolled away whilst her stone was pushed more firmly into the earth, buried.

“What do you think your d-”

Hands slick with mud grasped the sides of her face, pulling her forwards into a messy kiss, the game forgotten beneath them.

She shouldn’t be....she shouldn’t be...be what? 

It was so hard to think with his mouth pressed against hers, breathing in the same ragged air. Furious hands gripped her hair, keeping her from fleeing as he continued to plunder her mouth, his scorching tongue branding her. His skin was too hot, fevered to touch as she carelessly pulled him closer to warm her.

Triumphant eyes blazed as they met her own, from a face equally marked with dirt, his flower crown sat askew upon his silvery hair.

She needed to push him off, that was certain.

But she needed more, more of the fire that blazed inside of him, that caused the heat in her veins to sing in response.

 _Murderer, murderer, murderer,_ her mind screamed in protest.

She had been so cold, so terrified and horror-stricken. All of those bitter thoughts bled away into the earth he now had her pressed against on her back. Dizzying power swept through her, filling her with euphoria. His death grip changed into softer caresses against her waist and the brutal force of his mouth against hers, stealing away each breath she deigned to grant him, slowed into a gentler rhythm.

He pulled his mouth away to nip at the exposed flesh of her throat, marvelling as she arched into his attentions. “Humans are such curious creatures,” he murmured, she merely moaned in response, dragging his hand higher up her blouse. “Saying one thing and meaning another.” He rewarded her eagerness with a soft kiss to her brow, “So very difficult to predict; what a clever game you’ve brought us down here.”

“Get off,” she whispered, trying to gather a semblance of control. She wasn’t supposed to be doing this, there was a reason...a reason...the reason was...

“I’ll get you off,” he promised her cheerfully.

He grasped her arm and she sighed in pleasure, watching the glorious lines of gold, fluttering beneath her skin, spread up past her elbow, feeling the heat trickle up to her collar bone and to her breasts. She wanted all of it, every ounce of power housed in him. She would never be cold again.

He chuckled at her sound of surprise as his sharp teeth dug in harder to her now exposed collar bone, buttons buried into the earth along with sticks and stones and whatever else they had been playing with.

“I’ve made my move little wife,” he hissed into her ear. The term of address he used felt like a bucket of ice water had been thrown over her as she grew rigid beneath him. All of the lazy warmth and contentedness in the world couldn’t battle against her renewed horror. The power he breathed and desired to share with her was built upon corpses and ruin.

“That’s not a move,” she slurred, head spinning from the onslaught of his attention.

“Oh yes it is,” he pantomimed, “I can move however I like.” Jareth sweetly kissed the corner of her mouth, watching her twist and buck beneath him with amusement, “There isn’t a rule governing your actions my silver-tongued sweetheart. Silver-tongued with gold in your blood.”

“No,” she protested, freezing her desperate motions to push him off. He couldn’t know, how could he possibly know?

“It is a very human game, this Game with One Rule,” the Goblin King repeated for her benefit, now holding her down in the earth with so little force she could easily wiggle free of him if she could gather the strength needed. “The only rule that governs your pretty head and this game is the fallibility of human randomness and impulsivity. How terribly unfair on all those poor rule-abiding Fae you obliterated, searching relentlessly for something that wasn’t there.”

When she pushed against him this time, he seized both of her wrists, straddling her prone form. “How long have you known this?”

Had he been toying with her for all of these dreadful hours, humouring her pride and accomplishments?

 _This is what comes of challenging the Goblin King to a game that a seven-year-old saw through in five minutes,_ part of her thought snidely.

 _Oh Gods, Toby,_ her brother, her family. Would she ever see them again?

“I had to give you a sporting chance as it were, my lovely wife.” He lowered his body over hers, keeping his lips millimetres from her own. Her skin throbbed where his hands made contact, unable to reject whatever he was flooding her body with, that was creeping towards the centre of her chest once more, just as it had done so the first time he kissed her. 

“My lovely **Sarah**.” 

Jareth’s victorious smile felt like a knife between her ribs, twisting away, uncaring of all of the organs it nicked in pursuit of her heart.

“ **Sarah, Sarah**.” He tasted her name on his tongue over and over again in elation, his eyes oddly joyous and achingly tender. He had no right to look at her in such a way.

She felt utterly pathetic, blubbering away beneath him, while he, _her husband,_ lorded his triumph over her. He made the mistake of releasing one of her wrists to adjust her crown of flowers; chrysanthemum petals bled from it back into the ground from whence they sprung.

Given a moment of clarity, Sarah focused upon the searing heat in her veins, feeling it course and spread inside of her, multiplying into tributaries. What was the point in being a Queen, in having a will and a Kingdom as strong and as great as the King you were wed to if you had no power?

She had power in spades.

She could feel it writhing away inside of her.

Maybe a fragment of Nessa was still in there too.

Sarah gathered the heat and not-pain, the ever-churning torment in her blood and **pushed**.

The Goblin King was thrown back a good few metres, landing on his backside with a grunt. He lay there stunned for a moment before getting to his feet slowly, brushing off the dirt that now coated his gleaming onyx armour and streaked his face and hands. Upon his breastplate, there were two glowing handprints burnt onto the material.

Sarah started to scramble backwards; the high of the energy flowing through her had left her limbs jittery but not uncooperative as she too pulled herself to her feet, eyeing the advancing Goblin King with extreme caution. A short glance down at her hands confirmed that both of them shared the same peculiar affliction of aurelian mazes embedded within them. 

What was she going to do, fight him? 

The idea seemed ludicrous; she barely knew what she was doing with this new weapon he had inadvertently granted her.

No, she needed to lean on a weapon that was far truer. She needed to use her right words.

Sarah searched her mind desperately, for a single snippet or phrase, something to give her the upper hand. But the Fates didn’t seem to be favouring her as Jareth continued to draw closer, toying with her.

Fates.

That sparked a memory, a memory told in the voice of her very own Goblin King.

“I invoke the Right of Rina,” Sarah announced as imperiously as possible. 

The Goblin King came to a sharp stop before her, eyes tightening with concentration as he sought to unpick the words thrown at him.

“There is no such Right.”

“You told me that those with enough power and might could create their own rules,” Sarah insisted, “I am a Queen and I decree that I have the right to flee from you for thirteen hours, if uncaught then you must release me from this sham of a marriage.”

“You wound me precious Sarah,” he pressed a hand to the approximate location of where his heart would be if he had one; an almost proud expression crossed his harsh features as he slotted one hand over the mark she left on him. “Am I neglecting you?”

“Stop it,” she snapped, “You must know I don’t want this. I don’t want you.”

For a moment an odd sheen came over his cruel eyes as he regarded her solemnly, whatever slim chance that he was contemplating mercy was shattered by the resurgence of vehemence and ferocity found in the contours of his inhuman grin.

“I don’t care.” 

He stepped forward to seize her but she moved in sync, carefully pulling back from his possessive grasp and creeping back into the shadows of the garden. “You’re acting like a petty child, twisting and changing your demands of me, just as you always have done. I won your competition and owe you nothing, **Sarah**.”

Each utterance of the name he had long been denied the ability to speak was a reaffirmation of the power he sought to assert over her.

“But husband, you neglect me,” Sarah flattered, each word was poison-laced honey. “You showed so little interest in me during our courtship.” Because that was what it had been to him, their sick little game of conquest and murder built between the two of them. 

“And how might I remedy that?” He breathed; she wouldn’t trick herself for one second into believing that he was convinced by her display.

“You may have proven yourself worthy of being my spouse but you have yet to best me at a game more to your liking, you’ve yet to **catch me,** ” she taunted. “Won’t you allow me the same chance that the Fates granted Rina from her Prince?”

The difference was she had no intention of allowing her King to capture her.

“I have caught you,” he argued, “I’ve held you in my arms and I’ve held you against the dirt. In time I’ll shackle you to my bed to remind you how thoroughly ensnared you are, my wife.”

“Then why am I absent from your arms now, darling.” She hissed the pet name back at him, eyes widening at the way he recoiled from her disdain. 

She didn’t need the scalding rush through her veins to tell her of the power she was wielding over him. The Goblin King faltered in his attempts to snatch at her, his eyes gleamed like mercury in the darkness of the Labyrinth as he considered her demand. 

_Quicksilver eyes to match your silver-tongue._

“It is funny that you should mention the Fates,” his smile was stilted, still frowning as he mulled over his decision. “They add a flare of dramaticism to a story, don’t they? Mention them and your tale is all the more credible.” His cockiness returned as he noted the paleness of her face, “It was I that granted young Fallon, thirteen hours to capture his beloved.” Jareth gave a short mirthless laugh. “I suppose I am a romantic at heart."

She dared not breathe.

"I could be persuaded to extend the same to my wife if you wish it, Sarah-mine.”

*

~*o0o*~

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this sufficiently dark enough yet to warrant my warnings? :-D 
> 
> Sorry about all of the murders (Jareth isn't)
> 
> Sarah who is often winded running for buses has challenged the Goblin King to catch her, I'm sure that will end well...  
> I think she needs to revise her strategy.
> 
> And what, oh what is our Goblin King?


End file.
